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by Christie and Lar deSouza

September 24, 1958, 11:35 a.m. A bus pulled up to the stop in front of SHUSH headquarters in St. Canard. A short duck carrying an unusually large gun and wearing what looked like a toaster with antlers strapped to his head stepped down onto the sidewalk and glared menacingly at the building. Little did he know he was expected.

Six months earlier, a noted member of SHUSH's physical science team had mysteriously disappeared. Exhaustive searches had been in vain, and speculations had been made as to the cause. The undeniable conclusion they had reached was that a known nemesis of this unlucky physicist had taken him. He had the technology at his command that would allow him to appear and disappear within seconds. Clearly he had abducted his perceived enemy and, more than likely, had killed him.

They studied the character profile of this insane duck, and were convinced that he would be back. Disposing of his enemy would not satisfy him for long. He would want further revenge on SHUSH itself. Also, with his rival out of the way, he would likely seek to win the affections of a beautiful red-haired agent with whom he had fallen in love. In light of these circumstances, security had been re-doubled, and all of SHUSH prepared for his inevitable return.

March 24, 2014, 7:00 p.m. On the top floor of the old building that had once housed SHUSH headquarters, Honker Muddlefoot sat in the driver's seat of a small golf cart and made another adjustment to the control panel before him. He knew he was getting close to completing his long-awaited project. In a day or two it would be ready for a controlled test.

It was an honour to have been chosen to head up the team that would resurrect one of SHUSH's most significant inventions ever, the time machine. SHUSH agent Dr. Sarah Bellum created the prototype decades ago, and although she was retired, she came to the lab almost every day to monitor developments and oversee their progress every step of the way. He was lucky to have her. This project had some very serious implications.

Twenty-four years ago his father-in-law, Darkwing Duck, had nearly caused a disastrous alteration to the space-time continuum when using this machine. His visit to the past was so short and his involvement so negligible that it could hardly have been considered an intrusion. However, the consequences were so wide-ranging that all life in St. Canard had been changed - for the worse. It was only through Darkwing's determination (and, Honker had to admit, a lot of luck) that the city was saved from a fate worse than Elvis.

SHUSH immediately put the entire time travel program under wraps and had the device put into storage - only to be used in direst need - until the development of more advanced technology. The bureaucracy spent the intervening years researching and writing a thorough standard operating procedures manual for travelling through time. Honker chuckled to himself as he thumbed through the enormous document. The colossal task was necessary, for if something were to go wrong again, there was no knowing what could happen. However, Honker was fairly certain the first thing to disappear would be the manual itself.

A sudden creaking in the hall brought him to his feet to check for intruders. He wasn't used to this old building where once SHUSH scientists had made their discoveries. Twenty years ago, it had been the lab of Dr. Sarah Bellum, and as long as the time machine project was under her care, she insisted that they work here. Far from the city centre and not exactly up to date on the conveniences of modern science, it was mostly used for storage nowadays, but Bellum claimed the place had just the right atmosphere. Honker supposed it was better than using the ancient lab in the abandoned gas station which had been the time machine's original home - but only marginally better. Bellum was widely considered to be a bit of a kook - inventive and ingenious, but a kook nonetheless. Perhaps `atmosphere' was what she needed to stimulate her brilliant intellect, but all Honker wanted right now was peace of mind. He was the only one in the building, and the nearest other being was the night guard who circled through the parking lot once every hour or so on his rounds. He wasn't comfortable with all the strange settling noises the building made. The rattle of the ventilation, or the creak and groan of its internal girders only made him imagine the spectres of past agents patrolling the empty hallways. He realized he was behaving like the timid child of long ago and began laughing weakly at himself. Too many hours watching zombie movies with his wife.

The thought of his family made him glance up at the clock. He realized that it was the third time this week he would be late, and Gosalyn's patience was wearing thin. She was not accustomed to his long hours away from home, and she also wanted him there to watch over their eight-month-old daughter while she
made her nightly patrol as the Quiverwing Quack. He figured that by now she must have already taken Noelle to the McQuacks' place to leave her with their daughter, Evie, who was usually available for last-minute babysitting duty. Looking back down at the machine, he shook his head, angry at himself for having done it again. "Only another half hour," he promised himself, "and then I go home."

An hour and a half later, Honker was startled out of his work by a sudden crack of thunder. St. Canard's infamous weather was behaving as usual, and as more thunder continued to rattle the window panes, the rain began its nightly deluge. There was a nervous skittering sound from the ceiling, and Honker looked up in time to be doused by the water off a rusty eavestrough which had seeped through the aging plaster. He removed his glasses and wiped the rank water from his forehead with the shirtsleeve of his lab coat.

Swell, thought Honker. Not only am I late, I'm gonna get drenched! Hurriedly, he began to stuff his abundant notes into his briefcase in a race against the raindrops crowding in from the hole in the roof. Ducking into the hallway with his notes still in disarray, but at least now safe from the rain, he dropped the soggy pile to the tiled floor and once more wiped his face clear. Gosalyn is gonna love this, he realized miserably. Serves me right, I suppose.

He knelt down to try and fit his papers into the attaché once more, when a crash from the room demanded his attention. Peering back over his shoulder, he could see that more of the ceiling had crumbled and water was streaming down the walls of the abandoned office and spattering all over the recently reconstructed relic time machine.

"Oh no!" Honker yelled aloud, rushing headlong back into the room. Sparks were beginning to flare up from the time machine's console as rainwater infiltrated its circuitry. Honker began trying to push it out of the doorway, but too much rubble from the ceiling had collected on the floor and was jamming the tires. More sparks began now as the lighting fixtures reacted angrily to the storm. Another crack of thunder, loud and close, shook the building and the lights responded with more dimming and flaring as the lightning's power surges overloaded the ancient transformers which fed the building. Over the wind of the storm, Honker began to hear the brassy hymns of oompahs. Desperately, he hurled himself into the driver's seat and tried to remove the encoded program tape. The water in his eyes and on his glasses, combined with the flashing overhead lights, made seeing difficult, and he groped almost blindly, seeking the source of the music. The polka was growing louder, and the lightning seemed to flash in rhythm. His shadow danced on the walls on all sides, like the ghosts of his imagination.

Finally there was one mighty crash directly overhead, and light filled all corners of the room as the night turned briefly to day. Sparks flew from all directions as Honker's hands found the tape cassette and wrenched it from its place. The weary transformers that powered the building finally surrendered, and for a moment all light and sound stopped in the ruined office. Weary himself, Honker let his head slump to the steering wheel and closed his eyes for a moment.

The sound of a half a dozen guns being cocked alerted him to the fact that maybe not everything was over with. Opening one eye he saw a group of uniformed SHUSH agents circling the time machine and levelling their guns at him and...

"Who the heck are you?" he said in astonishment to the dishevelled drake seated next to him. The stranger looked back at Honker in stunned confusion for a second before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted away, tumbling out of his seat onto the clear floor of the office. Honker stared around in wonder. The storm still raged outside, but the room of only moments ago was gone. The ceiling was still in good repair, the lights buzzed strong and steady in their fixtures and the walls and floor were clean and dry. The agents surrounding him shared a grim and business-like expression, and their guns never wavered as he gingerly pocketed the tape and stepped away from the time machine.

"One more time then," said the SHUSH agent. Honker sighed and used his free hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. They had been questioning him for over an hour now. His surly faced interrogator did not seem at all pleased with his answers, despite the fact that his other hand was securely fastened to a modern variation of an old lie-detector that was constantly being monitored by another agent. Unfortunately, his examiner also seemed to have a flare for the dramatic, and the intense light under which he was positioned made things uncomfortably warm.

"Your name!" barked the agent from behind him. Honker wasn't startled. One did not marry a super-heroine without getting used to the unexpected.

"Honker Muddlefoot," he replied calmly. He had no idea why the question was even asked. They had already checked out the identification in his wallet and taken his fingerprints plus a feather sample for DNA analysis before hooking him up to the truth machine. He couldn't lie if he wanted to.

"Occupation!" barked the agent again, this time from the side. The fellow was circling him like a moth, and Honker began to wish fervently that he'd get burned.

"Scientist," came the calm reply for the sixth time.

"Who are you working for?" Honker silently mouthed the words, and was pleased to see the agent manning the lie-detector suppress a grin.

"I can't tell you that," he sighed, grateful that his SHUSH I.D. was kept in a separate wallet, and that he rarely carried it. Honker just wished he could have had some time to himself to sort out exactly what had happened to him. Obviously some sort of time disruption had occurred, but he wasn't entirely sure when he was, let alone where his mysterious passenger had come from.

"Why not!?"

"You wouldn't believe me." The agent stalked over to his associate to examine the data being produced. He snarled again and returned to circling Honker's chair.

"Try me," he said.

"That will be enough for now, Agent 338," spoke a new voice. Honker looked over to see a gander in his early fifties standing in the doorway. His hair was thinning noticeably, but his eyebrows had a familiar bushiness to them that Honker couldn't quite place. His bearing conveyed his absolute authority, though, and the agents attending Honker snapped to rigid attention as he entered the room. "You are dismissed for now. I expect a report to be on my desk by 17:00." The agents saluted crisply and left the room. As they closed the door, Honker could see an armed guard stationed outside.

"Please feel free to disconnect yourself."

"Thank you," Honker said, not quite sure what to make of his new questioner. The fellow obviously did not have the run-of-the-mill status SHUSH might assign to cases. The new agent seated himself comfortably across from Honker, pulled a palmtop computer out of his jacket pocket and began to read off the statistics of Honker's life.

"You are Herbert Muddlefoot Jr., usually called Honker, age 33. You graduated from the University of St. Canard with an Honours Degree in Physical Sciences and continued on to do your Ph.D. there. You were previously employed with the St. Canard division of McDuck Labs in their R&D section working on government contracts until the present crisis caused your recruitment into a civic defense research team. You've never been married and still live at home in your parents' basement. Your favourite colour is cadmium red - medium, and you're allergic to tapioca. Have I missed anything?" He glanced up at Honker for confirmation who shook his head dumbly. However, Honker's mind was racing. He was thirty-three, so he could not have shifted significantly in time. Yet almost all the other important data about him was incorrect. What about Gosalyn and Noelle? What about his working for SHUSH? And what was the crisis he was talking about?

"Well, Dr. Muddlefoot, you seem to be a long way from your lab." The agent turned off his miniature computer and tucked it away in his jacket. He settled back in his chair and allowed Honker a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Where - where precisely have I ended up?" Honker asked tentatively - deciding that now that he was off the infernal lie detector he might be able to play dumb and get some more information on this timeline's situation.

"You are in one of SHUSH's installations in St. Canard. How you came to be here, I was hoping you could tell me." He gave Honker a friendly smile.

"And you are...?"

"Director Hooter, Head of SHUSH." Honker's mind reeled with the information. The only Director Hooter he knew was during the height of Darkwing's career. The eyebrows could be genetic evidence of a familial link, though.

"Could I get a drink of water or something?" he asked. "These lights are awfully hot." Director Hooter smiled again and used his palmtop to page a request for drinks. He rose from his chair and dimmed the office lights a little.

"Sorry about that. Agent 338 can be a trifle overbearing sometimes, but he can get results." The guard stationed outside opened the door and passed Director Hooter a tray carrying a couple cans of soda pop. He passed one to Honker. "Koo-koo Cola - your favourite drink." Honker was beginning to worry about keeping secrets in this new society.

"Now - about that contraption you and your partner rode in on?" he began again.

"To be honest, sir, I have no idea who that other fellow is. I was just working on a little experiment of my own and things got out of hand. I didn't intend to wind up here, let alone pick up an unscheduled passenger. Do you know who he is?" Honker could hear Gosalyn's voice echo in his memory with advice.
`Keep the lie simple... mix in a little truth if you can - it makes it sound more genuine...' His throat tightened at the thought that he had never married her in this reality and he fought it down with another swig of cola.

"Dr. Muddlefoot, your `unscheduled passenger' is a mystery to us. And I must ask you directly - are you working for Leon Ardo?"

"No sir," Honker answered with conviction. He had no idea who or what Leonardo was.

"This hasn't been an easy time for anyone with Ardo around, Dr. Muddlefoot," the Director said, rising from his chair to pace the room. "You can appreciate that - we all can. The whole city is antsy wondering where and when he'll turn up next." Honker nodded mutely, mentally assessing the information. "Frankly we could use a device like yours if you've actually managed to perfect a working teleporter."

"It's not precisely a teleporter, sir," he said, wondering how to sidestep this truth.

"Accidental discovery, then? Doesn't matter. The point is do you think you could get it to work again?"

"I honestly don't know, sir."

"Drat it all! I was kind of hoping you were a lucky star for us." He continued to pace the room. "Frankly, Dr. Muddlefoot, our position against Ardo is not good and we could use something like this. We've been combing every possible resource to come up with something like it, and then you drop suddenly into our laps!" He consulted his computer again. "I'll be honest in saying that came as quite a surprise. SHUSH keeps track of available talent, and while you've proven yourself to be brilliant, you've never displayed such inventiveness before."

"Um - could I go now?" Honker asked, deciding to take the timid tact after hearing about himself. "My - um - mom will be worried." The Director smiled, only slightly deprecating, at Honker's request. He sent another electronic message and then put away his palmtop computer.

"Yes, you are free to go, but do not consider yourself free from suspicion or obligation to SHUSH. The white coats up in the science department are going to go over your machine with a fine toothed comb and they may have questions for you. And until such time as we ascertain exactly who your passenger is, you should keep yourself available for us to contact you at any time."

"Y-yessir," Honker said, forcing a boyhood stutter. "I won't try to leave the city or anything."

The Director paused at the doorway and stared at Honker for a moment before smiling strangely. "I'd like to see you try," he said quietly before exiting.

Agent 338 returned then to escort him from the building. His brusque bearing was wasted on Honker as he pondered the last statement from Director Hooter. Why had it filled him with such a sense of foreboding? As he stepped through the doors leading outside, with 338's admonitions hollowly filling his ears, he stared up at the sky in amazement and understood. A glowing forcefield hung above the city, effectively cutting it off from all outside support. Energy coruscated across the clouds tinting the landscape with a jaundiced light. Even Negaduck had not produced anything so lethal looking! Honker began to worry less about his situation and more about who Ardo was.

The mysterious drake in the rumpled lab coat was brought to a brightly lit room. His brain had a great deal of difficulty sorting the images his eyes were sending, but eventually he could discern two agents waiting for him there. One sat at a panel which displayed a shifting mix of letters and numbers. The other seated herself and gestured to him to take the remaining chair across from her. She stared at him for a while, then tapped on the small device in her hand. The agent at the display gave him a device also, however his hand was strapped down onto it. It was simpler looking, but no less baffling to him.

The female agent appeared to say something, but he could not hear her. With an expression of genuine concern, she held up her device once more and punched a few buttons. As she did this, the words she spoke a moment before suddenly resonated in his ears. "What is your name?"

"Uh... I'm sorry, but..." His own words had an eerie echo to them which made it difficult to concentrate, and caused him to falter. A small portion of his mind which could still think clearly told him that something was terribly wrong with his senses. He felt as if he were very small, sitting inside a vast darkened chamber, staring at her through a tunnel. Just as light and sound travel differently through water than through air, he perceived that all his sensations had to first make their way through that gaping darkness.

She spoke again and waited for his response. He tried to concentrate, willing himself to move forward down the tunnel of his perceptions so that her words would come to him sooner. "Can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," he said, struggling to ignore the echo of his own voice returning to him seconds later.

"I need to ask you some questions." Once again, he heard her words after she spoke them, but as he concentrated they were getting closer to synchronization. That clear part of his mind was disturbed over the phenomenon, but even his emotions seemed to be dulled and distant.

"All right," he was able to say after a shorter pause than before. It was strenuous for him to think
clearly. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow from the effort.

"What is your name?" she asked again.

When the question came to him, he paused to carefully consider the answer. He knew it was there in his mind, but he didn't know where to begin looking for it. His thoughts were so intangible, he couldn't grasp onto one long enough for it to make any sense.

"Do you know your name?" came the agent's voice again.

He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. A line creased his forehead and he frowned. "I should," he began. As his words echoed back, he grew even more distressed that he was incapable of simple thought. "I don't know," he finally had to admit.

She turned and looked questioningly at the other agent. Looking up from the monitor, he shook his head. "He really doesn't know."

At the tinkling chime of the oven timer, Binkie Muddlefoot gave a girlish little giggle and stepped lightly across the kitchen to get her favourite oven mitts from the darling little hook her thoughtful son Tank had given her only three Mother's Days before. It wasn't much of a hook, but Tank was still such a dear to get her one.

Despite her advancing years, she had managed to maintain as much of her girlish figure as gravity would allow, and daily took pleasure in the little things that made a house a home. She slid the cookies, still hot from the oven, off their tray and arranged them aesthetically on a serving platter almost without thinking. A quick glance at the adorable wall clock her other son Honker had given her when he was 16 - he was such a clever boy, and always so serious - reminded her that it was almost time to serve a nice mid-evening snack to her family. She set the cookies on the counter to cool for a few moments while she thinly sliced some leftover ham and arranged a sandwich platter to go with them. She wondered if she'd have time to make lemonade.

As she moved from the kitchen to her living room, carefully balancing the many dishes of food with the grace of a circus acrobat, her younger son Honker came home. He had missed dinner, and the poor darling must be starving. He certainly didn't seem to be his usual self at all. She laid out the cookies and sandwich fixings on the coffee table and poured a soft drink for her sweet husband Herb. Herb had fallen asleep in front of the television again, and she gently prodded him awake so he wouldn't miss any of his favourite shows.

"Oh, hello Honker dear! Rough day at work?" She glided over to retrieve his coat and hang it up.

"Hello, Mom... you could say that," he replied much too seriously for Binkie's liking. The poor dear worked much too hard. She would just have to call up that nice Mr. McDuck again tomorrow and have a word with him.

"Since when has next door been `For Sale'?" he asked her.

Binkie giggled. "Why Honker dear! Next door always seems to be up for sale! Sometimes I wish one of you two boys would buy it just so we could have steady neighbours! Besides," she added with another of her small staccato laughs, "I'm running out of original things to do with a Jell-O mold! I don't know what I'm going to make to welcome our new neighbours!" She was about to offer to make Honker some dinner when her first son Tank came in. Tank was a robust boy - and had gotten more robust with every year. He was almost as robust as his father!

"Hey Honkster," he said with that gruff affection he reserved for his brother. Tank tossed a set of keys at Honker, who caught them reflexively. "Nice catch, four-eyes. Yer outta gas again."

Honker looked at the keys in his hand as the meaning of Tank's words sunk in. With an almost snarl he tossed the keys back at Tank, hitting him in the chest with them. "So fill it up!"

"Ow! Mom!" Tank whined rubbing his chest.

"Tut, tut, tut, Tank dear! Our Honker is just a wee bit cranky today, and he did let you borrow his car for your job interview! Don't you think you could at least say thank you by filling the gas tank?" She fluttered her motherly eyes at her eldest son, who grumbled unintelligibly and stomped back out of the house.

"Was that Tank?" called Herb from the living room. "Tell him he'd better hurry up - it's almost time for Pelican's Island Theatre 3000!" Binkie stepped back into the living room to plump some cushions for Tank's return, kissed her husband and went back to the kitchen. Honker followed.

"Mom?"

"Oh, Honker! Would you like me to warm up some leftovers for you? There are sandwich fixings in the living room if you prefer..."

"No Mom, that's not it. About next door - do you remember when the Mallards moved away?"

"The Mallards? No, I don't think I recall any of our neighbours having that last name, but," she added with a giggle, "we've had so many!"

"Think, Mom! It's kinda important. They moved in when I was about nine, and had a girl my age named Gosalyn?"

"Let me think a moment." Binkie sat down and began polishing the silverware as she considered her son's question. "I remember the Goosedownes, and the Robinsons; the Mergansers, and the Solomons, but I don't seem to recall the Mallards. What was your little friend's mother's name?"

"Uh.. she didn't have a mother, mom. She was adopted. It was just her dad, Drake, and his friend Launchpad."

Binkie considered the information seriously - or at least as seriously as Binkie considered anything. "I think I'd remember an alternative lifestyle family Honker. They're always so artistic!" She finished with the silverware and began arranging some flowers in a vase. "Do you remember the Swansons? They always kept such a nice garden!" She began to hum a little song at the flowers as she moved them about. Flowers were so sensitive to their surroundings.

"No no Mom! It wasn't like that! Launchpad moved over to the other side of us when he got married. Beth and Launchpad - they lived there for a few years, at least. Then they moved across the street. You know - the McQuacks."

"McQuacks? I don't think there was ever anyone on this street by that name."

"Honey?" called Herb from the living room. Binkie immediately abandoned both the flowers and Honker to see what her wonderful husband might need.

"What is it, Herb?"

"Willya lookit that?" he said, his boyish voice cracking slightly as he gestured towards the wide screen home entertainment unit. "They've doggone and interrupted my teevee show!"

"This just in from the south side of the city," the announcer was saying. "Leon Ardo's band of interdimensional mercenaries have renewed their attack on the city. Officials have managed to contain them south of 129th Street but property damage is high in the area, and the armed forces that remain in the city have been hampered by the energy barrier Ardo placed around the city months ago. Citizens are asked to remain clear of the fighting. A citywide curfew is in effect from..." Herb finished his soft drink and flipped channels, looking for more entertainment. He didn't spend his money on the Ultra-Deluxe Cinema Home unit just to watch the news.

"This is all wrong!" Honker said to himself.

"Yer tellin' me!" said his father. "And tonight was gonna be the pre-mid-season replacement premiers!"

"There there, Herb," his wife consoled him. "Would you like me to pick out one of your favourite videotapes?"

The door slammed shut behind him as Honker ran from the house.

"Oh dear!" thought Binkie. "I hope he remembers about the curfew!" The phone began to ring and she went off happily to answer it. She was relieved as only a mother can be when first Tank and then Honker returned minutes later. Tank eased himself onto the couch next to his father and tossed the set of keys to his brother.

"Here!" he said sullenly as Honker fumbled the keys and let them drop to the carpet. "I filled your stupid car with gas!"

"G-gee! Thanks Tank!" said Honker, momentarily taken aback by his brother's uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. He bent over to pick up the keys. "You've never done that before!"

"Back so soon, Honker dear?" said Binkie handing him a slip of the cutest kitchen stationary she had ever seen. He seemed confused by something but it might have just been the way his glasses always slipped down. "Some nice folks from SHUSH just called and are ever so anxious to speak with you about your work! They'd like you to call them right away!"

Director Hooter stood with his sister in the observation room, watching the closed circuit monitor. On the screen, the curious character was being questioned, but so far the only information they were able to get out of him was that he could not remember anything. Normally the Director would be suspicious of a stranger claiming to have amnesia, but somehow he felt that this situation was different. SHUSH had on file detailed information on every person who was trapped within Ardo's dome, and yet this duck, who appeared out of nowhere, was not on file. Again, that would make him instantly suspect, as the only unregistered people were the soldiers whom Ardo had brought in from another dimension. But that didn't seem to fit either. In fact, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen this person before.

"Your opinion, doctor?" he asked.

"Well," she replied, "I'm glad I didn't use 338 on this one."

"I agree. There's something odd about him. I can't seem to put my finger on it."

"His physical examination didn't show any evidence of concussion," she commented, looking at his chart. "I truly believe he has amnesia, although it seems to go beyond that. There is evidence on a neurological level that he's been though some traumatic experience. His vision, his hearing, his reflexes have all been affected by it as well. I'd like to do a thorough brain scan and computer construct to see if we can find the problem."

"I wish I could give you the time, Faye, but there's too much happening. Ardo's gaining more ground every day, and unless you can prove to me that this guy holds some crucial answer to stopping him, we can't afford to waste personnel and resources on him." Hooter knew his sister understood the gravity of the situation. This latest offensive of Ardo's was proving to be his most deadly. Unlike his other attacks, this time he seemed to have an agenda, and he brought with him a large army to implement it. He struck in an organized manner, hitting the most vital parts of the city first. Thanks to Ardo's previous attacks, defenses for the city were first-rate, but Ardo's efficient legions had gradually weakened them. What was left of the resistance was only strong enough to maintain the stalemate, but even that had begun to crumble in the past week.

She nodded in agreement. "I had a feeling you'd say that. It's a shame, though," she remarked. "I almost feel I know him."

"Really?" Director Hooter said in surprise. "Astounding. I thought so too."

Faye returned her brother's look of confusion, but was suddenly distracted by the video screen. The readouts from the lie detector had jumped dramatically.

"Has he lied about something?" Hooter asked.

"Perhaps," Faye replied, "but it could mean he's had an emotional reaction to something as well. Either way, I want to know what it was. Could you ask them to repeat the question?" She went to the volume control on the monitor and turned it up. Hooter made the request via an intercom with a direct link to the questioning room.

The agent on the screen spoke slowly. "Let me rephrase that," they heard through the speaker. "Do you know who Leon Ardo is?"

Faye shot her brother a look of concern. His eyes were fixed on the screen intently, his expression turning grim.

It was a moment before the prisoner replied. His expression, which was already strained and uncertain, had become anguished. "I... I don't..."

"Are you afraid?" the questioner asked gently. "You look afraid."

He closed his eyes, as if concentrating. After a few seconds, he said, "Yes, I'm afraid." Another long pause. "I just... don't know why." He clutched his head miserably. "I don't understand."

Hooter sighed heavily and pressed the intercom button again. "That's enough, 853," he said. "Let him rest."

The agent on the screen nodded her appreciation towards the hidden camera and escorted the prisoner out of the room.

"The dedicated defender diligently scans the horizon for any sign of the hideous haranguer of hope _ his nemesis _ Leon Ardo!" Darkwing continued to stare out the high windows of his sanctum atop Audubon Bay Bridge. A cool wind keened through the vaulted ceiling and he shivered. "Better put on a sweater," he grumbled to himself, stepping down from his self-appointed post.

Growing old was not all it was cracked up to be. Considering it didn't have such a great reputation to begin with, though… He let that thought trail off as he traded his cape for a woolen cardigan. Some days it's hardly worth putting on the mask, he thought sullenly.

Leon Ardo, his nemesis? Ha! That was a laugh. Leon Ardo had never even seen Darkwing Duck, let alone fight him. For as long as he could remember - certainly most of his life - Ardo had been a serious threat to the city, growing more powerful with each new attack. Darkwing had grown up among the citizens of St. Canard who lived in constant fear of Ardo's next return. In his youth, like other children, he dreamed of conquering this villain in single combat. Even in his prime he held on to that dream, fighting criminals, cleaning up the streets, solving mysteries which baffled even the best detectives - all in hopes of facing Ardo. Darkwing Duck, Defender of the Innocent, Superhero!

Who was he kidding? The crime fighting he had done years ago only served to keep the smalltime criminals out of the authority's hair. His work was appreciated enough, but try as he might, he never did get that lucky break - a shot at Ardo himself. He had to face the facts. To those in charge, as well as to the
general populace, he had never been more than a second rate vigilante. Oh sure, he had done a good job keeping down the crime rate, but he had made no lasting impressions on the world. Most kids today hadn't even heard of him. He had no family, no children who could follow his brave example of crime fighting, and for the past several years since his `retirement', Darkwing was little more than a glorified member of the Neighbourhood Watch. In a world where the likes of Leon Ardo could leap through dimensions, materializing out of thin air with a store of other-reality weapons at his disposal, there wasn't much one aging duck could do to make a difference.

Sighing, he climbed the few steps back to the window ledge and seated himself with his binoculars. At least he could do a civic duty and keep an eye out for any sign of trouble. In these days of siege, all he usually had to do was send home the occasional curfew violator or scare off hopeful looters. And just in case his vantage point allowed him a warning glimpse of another extradimensional strike, a portable phone sat near to his hand.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright. His sense of hearing was as acute as ever, but he couldn't believe his ears. He remained still and listened carefully. There. Unmistakable. A soft footfall had echoed across the darkened chamber behind him. An intruder was there within the secret Darkwing Tower. He cursed himself for laying aside his cape as he slipped out of sight around a corner. It'd been a while since he had had an opportunity to make a dramatic entrance and hoped his stiffening joints would be up to it. He could see the shadow of the prowler lengthening across the floor.

"Darkwing Duck? Are you here?" a voice called out.

Curious, Darkwing thought. What kind of intruder would announce his presence? And how did he find his way in? Only a person of great intelligence and deductive powers could do that - a person desperate to see me... Aha! he surmised with a smile. It seems I do have a few fans left!

Darkwing leapt out from concealment, executing a passable mid-air somersault before landing on a desktop and striking a proud pose. "I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the wakeup call in the hotel of crime! I am _DARKWING DUCK!" A tall thin gander looked back at him through thick glasses, and he suppressed a grimace. Why can't my fans ever be beauty contestants? he thought.

"Darkwing Duck? It's me _ Honker Muddlefoot," the stranger said.

"Nice to meet you citizen," Darkwing said guardedly. "You know, you're lucky you called out. If you had tried to take me unawares, you'd be a thousand feet above the bay wishing you were born with wings." He eyed his guest suspiciously. "How did you find my secret hideout, anyway?"

The fan's shoulders slumped tiredly. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"Well _ er _ you know how it is. I have so many fans it's hard to keep you all straight." In fact, Darkwing had had only one steady fan that he had ever met - a pilot who used to follow him around. He had enlisted with the air force during Ardo's last attack on the city and Darkwing briefly wondered what had ever become of him.

"But I'm not a fan!" the fellow said plaintively.

"Not a…" Darkwing tried to strike a defensive pose, but his trick knee went out and he slipped off the desk into a heap. The suspicious character took a step towards him.

"Stay back!" Darkwing shouted. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

"Listen to me, I need your help," the fellow began again impatiently.

"Not before you tell me how you got in here."

He met Darkwing's gaze with defiance. "You told me how to. I'm your son-in-law."

Darkwing stared back at him in silence. Great, the thought. The guy's a nutcase. Or maybe the National Squawker set him up to this.

"Listen... uh..."

"Honker."

"Whoever you are," he said gruffly, getting up off the floor. "I have not told anyone where my hideout is, and never would, so you'd better come up with a better explanation than that `cause I'm not buying it."

"But I'm telling the truth. You have to believe me!"

"Well I've got a news bulletin for you, Bonkers."

"Honker."

"Yeah, right. Listen. I live alone. I have always lived alone. I have never had a family, let alone a daughter for you to marry. So, if you don't tell me the truth right now, the secret of my hideout's location will go with you out that window." He glared at the intruder menacingly, but was caught off guard. "Uh... what's the matter?" he asked, for a look of anguish had crossed the stranger's face. How could he be properly irate if the guy was going to get all mushy? "You're not going to cry or anything, are you?"

"Forget it," the young gander snapped bitterly, turning to leave. "I thought of all people in this city, the
great Darkwing Duck could help me, but I guess I was wrong. My problem is probably beyond your ability anyway."

"Hey hey hey wait a minute!" Darkwing retorted defensively. "Nothing is beyond the ability of Darkwing Duck!"

"No. Never mind. It's too complicated. And too much depends on the outcome to risk -"

"Whatever it is, I can handle it! Now tell me!"

It took some time for the stranger to explain everything to Darkwing, and the whole story sounded like something out of a sci-fi movie. He recounted what life was like in his `reality', which was apparently very different from the St. Canard Darkwing knew. He spoke of his experiment, the storm, the stranger who had appeared out of nowhere, the disruption of the timestream, and the likelihood that the accident had somehow enabled Leon Ardo to return again and again to harrow the city and the world. All of it should have sounded to him like sheer malarkey, and yet there was a sincerity to his words that Darkwing couldn't ignore. The fact that he had found his way into Darkwing Tower, which no one had ever done before (not that anyone had bothered trying) added some credibility to his tale. But more importantly, Honker knew something about Darkwing that he himself had almost forgotten - his real name, Drake Mallard. Only one who was very close to him - closer than anyone was in this reality - could have known that. And finally there was one fact from the young scientist's account that stood out over all the rest - a haunting image which burned itself into Darkwing's mind - a spirited little girl with red pigtails whom he had raised to be the new defender of St. Canard. His daughter, Gosalyn.

"And Leon Ardo doesn't even exist in your reality?" Darkwing asked.

"If he does," Honker explained, "he's no threat to the city. I had never heard of him until I came here. The only threats to St. Canard were villains like Megavolt and Negaduck - and they were no match for Darkwing Duck, the Terror that Flaps in the Night, Guardian of St. Canard!"

Darkwing liked Honker. His story sounded so plausible. In fact, it was how the world should be - worthy criminal foes, a city that depended on him, and a daughter to follow in his footsteps. He was determined to help Honker in whatever way he could.

"The sooner we solve this case the better," Darkwing said conclusively. "It's time to take action."

"I agree. First off I want to find out where Gosalyn is. Do you have any sort of Internet access?"

"Access! Check this out!" Darkwing went back into the main chamber and flipped a switch. A giant panel slid aside revealing a huge computer monitor and console. Seating himself in a chair of thronelike proportions, he began accessing several complex search engines on the Net.

"I guess some things don't change," Honker said, smiling. "You've still got your toys."

Darkwing sniffed defensively at Honker's choice of words, but his hands continued to work rapidly over the keyboard. "So what was her last name?"

"Waddlemeyer. Check the orphanage records if you can."

Darkwing's computer system was extremely efficient. With the decline of his physical skills he had concentrated on making himself St. Canard's watcher. The local authorities were used to getting his sudden phone calls of warning even before an alarm had sounded, and had learned to trust them. Consequently, he had gained accesses to most of the local governmental files, and had hacked his way deeper still.

"There's no listing of a Gosalyn Waddlemeyer at the St. Canard Orphanage, or even birth records at any of the hospitals." Honker's mouth was set firmly, and Darkwing could tell he was struggling with his emotions again. "It's possible she was born outside St. Canard, but I can't get much access through the barrier Leon dropped around the city." His fingers danced over the keys some more. "I'll try expanding the search for just Waddlemeyer. Maybe there's a marriage certificate for her parents or perhaps her family just moved away." They waited silently as the computer hummed and digested the streams of information.

"That's strange. Still no _ wait a minute. There are two mentions of a Noel Waddlemeyer in the newspaper archives."

"He was her grandfather!" Honker said, encouraged by the finding.

Darkwing tapped on the links and retrieved the relevant articles. "Interesting. The first is dated 1954 and mentions a Noel Waddlemeyer as an assistant to a murder victim. Dr. Elizabeth Ardo!"

"A relation to Leon Ardo?" Honker wondered aloud.

"And the second is _ an obituary notice. No cause of death, and no mention of surviving wife or kids."

"What's the year on that notice?"
"1958."

"That's impossible. Gosalyn's grandfather died in the late 1980's!"

"According to this, though, he was probably never even married." He turned to look at Honker. They
both knew what that meant. The Gosalyn that was his daughter and Honker's wife had never been born. Darkwing found himself suddenly struggling to control his own emotions.

"That must be it then," Honker said tightly. "I know Gos' grandfather was a scientist for SHUSH. My time machine must have somehow plucked him out of his office in the past. I was working in one of SHUSH's old buildings. For all I know, he might have been occupying the same physical space as the time machine when the accident happened."

"And his association with another Ardo can't be a coincidence."

"I've got to get back to SHUSH now," Honker said. "Maybe there's still a chance I can fix things." He turned to leave and suddenly felt Darkwing's hand on his arm restraining him. He handed Honker a key.

"Take the Ratcatcher. The old girl doesn't get out much, but she'll take you to SHUSH faster than anything else in the city." Honker smiled in gratitude and dropped off the ledge onto the waiting motorcycle. Darkwing savoured the sound of the engine as it leapt to life and faded in the distance. Then he picked up his binoculars and resumed his place on the window seat, feeling younger than he had in years.

If he hadn't left his post, he may have had some warning. But as it was, he had only seconds to dial the Civil Defense hotline. Even then, it was too late.

Honker manoeuvred the Ratcatcher off the suspension cable and raced at top speed on the clear night road. Finally he was making headway. The mysterious drake that had materialized next to him in the time machine must be Noel Waddlemeyer. He thought fondly of his father-in-law and knew Gos would appreciate hearing that her dad was still a hero, no matter what the reality was. He took a deep breath of the cool wind as it whipped by him, and felt confident that the solution to this puzzle was now within reach. All he had to do was convince SHUSH of his story and figure out how to use the time machine to return Dr. Waddlemeyer to his rightful time. Honker took full advantage of the empty post-curfew streets and pushed the throttle forward. The roar of the Ratcatcher echoed through the silent city.

The shock wave caught him first, pushing at his back and forcing him down against the handlebars. Suddenly the bike swerved and he struggled for control as the asphalt around him buckled and cracked. The entire city seemed to be shaking, and a quick look in his rear view mirrors forced him to stop the Ratcatcher and look back. A squadron of oddly shaped flying ships were strafing the bay and part of the bridge lay in smoldering ruins. The UFOs dipped and turned, the wind screaming across their wings with a sound like monstrous gulls. As he stood dumbfounded, the top of Darkwing Tower was sheared off by destructive beams which lanced from the spacecraft, and rubble arced into the calm waters leaving smoking trails to hang in the sky. The horrific spectacle paralyzed him.

No... Honker forced himself to remember equally hopeless situations in which Darkwing had survived. If anyone could have lived through that attack, it would be Darkwing Duck. The idling engine of the Ratcatcher seemed to growl a denial, though, and Honker realized that in this reality there was no Thunderquack to speed Darkwing to safety. Honker had taken the only means of quick transport available to the aging champion of justice. Tears began to stream down his cheeks and he shook uncontrollably even as he gunned the engine and sped towards SHUSH. His only hope to set things right again was with the lonely amnesiac duck currently sitting in the brig of SHUSH.

"Right this way, Dr. Muddlefoot." Director Hooter indicated the open door to a conference room and waited for Honker to enter. There were already four guards waiting for them in there. "It's a good thing you returned," he said tightly as he closed the door behind them. "I have a lot of questions."

"I'd like to help you, but what I have to talk to you about is really urgent. It can't be put off."

The Director nodded. "Perhaps you haven't been telling us the whole truth. Does that have something to do with it, Dr. Muddlefoot?"

Honker stopped short. "What do you mean?" he asked hesitantly.

"Like I said, I have a lot of questions for you." Hooter went to another door in the room and opened it. "I think my sister can fill you in on question number one... Faye, could you bring him in now?"

Honker's eyes widened in shock. Following a middle-aged female scientist into the conference room was... himself. The other Honker looked up at him and gasped, backing up against the wall in horror. "W-w-what is going on here?" he quavered. "I told you, I don't know anything about this! Why won't you let me go home?"

"It seems there has been some confusion as to which Honker Muddlefoot we needed to see," the Director explained to the terrified gander. "We weren't aware that there would be two of you." He eyed the first Honker suspiciously.

"I can explain..." Honker said hurriedly.

"You'd better. And make it quick."

"That is Honker Muddlefoot," Honker said, indicating the trembling figure still leaning against the wall for support. "I am too, but I don't belong here. I belong in an alternate reality." The Director began to interrupt angrily, but Honker cut him off. "You have to trust me! That device I came on - it's a time machine. There was an accident..." Hooter shook his head in disgust and began to motion a guard to take Honker away. "Please! You have to believe me! I can even solve your problem with Leon Ardo if you'll..."

"No!" Hooter barked, what was left of his patience vanishing. "We have enough problems of our own without having to cater to a lunatic!"

"But you can't just..."

"Perhaps you're unaware that as we speak, Ardo is destroying the city! I don't even know if my family is alive, and you're trying to tell me that you - you of all people - can solve our problem!"

"If you'll just hear me out!"

"Why should I waste my time..."

"Noel," the female interrupted. "Hear him out."

The Director turned quickly and stared at her for a moment, obviously trying to control his temper.

Honker broke the silence. "Your name is Noel?"

Hooter ignored him. The Director's sister walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "You've done everything you can from here. Considering all the strange goings on, don't you think he could be telling the truth?"

"I don't know what to think, Faye."

"Sit down," she instructed, then turned to a guard. "Will you escort Dr. Muddlefoot to a safe shelter?" she asked, indicating the terrified gander against the wall. The guard nodded and led him out. "And will you take a seat?" she asked Honker. "Why don't you tell us about your alternate reality."

Honker sat, eyeing the Director warily. "I am telling the truth." Faye nodded to him. "My reality is very different from this one. For one thing, there's no Leon Ardo."

"It sounds like a nice place," she said calmly.

"And I work for SHUSH... only the Director's different there. In fact, the only Director Hooter I know of was back in the 1980s and 90s."

"Oh, well there's one place where our realities are the same," she said. "We also had a Director Hooter then."

"I thought that might be the case, actually." Honker turned his eyes from Faye to her brother. "Are you two related to the Past Director? I can see some family resemblance."

"Yes," Director Hooter said. "She's our mother."

"Mother? Wasn't J. Gander Hooter the Director?"

"J. Gander?" he asked, confused. "No, J. Gander's our father. It's our mother, Gosalyn Hooter, who was Director of SHUSH."

Honker was stunned into silence.

"Is there anything wrong?" Faye asked.

"I... don't know what to say," Honker began. The knot in his stomach tightened painfully. "I don't know what I can say anymore. I'm dealing with time travel..." He trailed off, overwhelmed by the complications that continued to arise. One thing was for sure, though. They still had to know the truth. Honker sighed heavily. He had to tell them. "Do you know who Noel Waddlemeyer is?"

They both looked up in shock. Their expressions alone answered his question. "Noel Waddlemeyer was a dear friend of our parents," Faye said finally.

"Well, I don't know how to tell you this, but the duck you have in your holding cell - the one that appeared with me - is Noel Waddlemeyer."

Director Hooter shook his head in disbelief. "That's impossible. He died over 50 years ago."

"Do you know how he died?" Honker asked.

"No. Nobody knew," Hooter replied, becoming more distant as he considered the question. "He just disappeared..." As he trailed off, he looked over at his sister. Her shaken expression matched his own.

"The old photographs..." she whispered to her brother, "...on Mom's and Dad's wall. That's where we've seen him before."

Honker took another deep breath and swallowed hard. "I'm afraid the accident with my time machine caused Noel Waddlemeyer's disappearance. He was somehow taken from his lab and transported here to what would be his future. I have reason to believe that that single event has caused the discrepancies between our realities."

Muddlefoot's claim seemed pretty farfetched, thought Director Hooter as he waited in the questioning room, but there was no denying the logic behind it. No one had ever been able to explain the mysterious disappearance of Noel Waddlemeyer. Originally, SHUSH was convinced that Leon Ardo had taken him, but when Ardo appeared six months later demanding to see him, SHUSH was at a loss. It was then that Ardo's assaults on St. Canard began, his hatred for Waddlemeyer fueling his violence. Ardo would never accept the fact that the scientist had simply vanished. He was convinced SHUSH was hiding him, and would not rest until he had his cherished revenge.

Decades of fear, destruction and loss of life, thought Hooter mournfully, and according to SHUSH records, Waddlemeyer had done nothing wrong. His offense was only in Ardo's twisted mind. Hooter wondered what would have happened if Waddlemeyer had been there on that fateful day. If Muddlefoot was right, Waddlemeyer should have been there. But honestly, thought Hooter, how could the presence of one person have made that much difference?

Director Hooter knew that the only thing to do at this point was to get some kind of proof of Muddlefoot's claim. Was the duck in their brig actually Noel Waddlemeyer? His resemblance to the faded black and white photos on his parents' wall wasn't enough. A visual confirmation would be best, but so few people could do that for him. He refused to call his aged parents in for this task. The risk they would have to take just to get to the SHUSH building through Ardo's troops was reason enough. More importantly, though, Hooter could not bring himself to have them face that painful memory from the distant past. Whether or not this stranger was Noel Waddlemeyer, he didn't think his parents could handle the shock.

However, there was one other person around who had been working for SHUSH at that time. Although she was now in her 70s, she had insisted on remaining with SHUSH to help fight Ardo in his latest attack. In fact, she was the first scientist in charge of preparing for Ardo's anticipated return all those decades ago. Not only that, but she was an old and dear friend of his parents - almost family, in fact. He had known her all his life. It pained him to put her in this position, but she was the only other person he could think of who would recognize Waddlemeyer.

"I'm glad you could meet me here, Sasha," the Director said as she entered the questioning room. He hugged her gently in greeting. "I'm sorry for getting you up so early in the morning."

"That's all right. I was up already," she said, then gave him a sidelong look. "It looks like you haven't been to bed yet, Noel."

He chuckled sardonically under his breath. "Like I had a choice. I'm glad your part of the city wasn't one of the ones taken out last night."

"And I hear yours is all right too," she said, smiling sympathetically.

"Apparently," Hooter replied. "Though I'd like communications to be opened again. I hate being cut off from home like this."

"I understand. Maybe when this meeting's over you could try to get out there."

"Well, this isn't a meeting, actually. I needed you to do me a favour."

"Oh? What can I do for you?"

"We have someone here we think you may know. We were hoping you could identify him for us."

"Uh... someone alive, I hope."

Hooter cracked a smile. "Don't worry. I wouldn't have dragged you in here at six in the morning if he wasn't."

"Well that's a relief."

Hooter's expression became grim once more. "Still... this may be unsettling for you, Sasha." He wished there was a way he could make this easier for her. "I just wanted to warn you. Do you feel up to it?"

Her face took on a troubled look. "I... suppose so. Can you explain?"

"Not if we want an unbiased identification."

Sasha looked uneasy, but nodded her agreement.

Director Hooter went to the intercom and held down the button. "Dr. Webfoot is here. Could you bring him in?"

A moment later, the door opened and a guard escorted their strange guest into the room. His face and posture made it evident that he also had been too preoccupied to sleep that night. Hooter watched Sasha carefully for her reaction.

There was an instant of hesitation, but then her eyes went wide and her face became suddenly pale. The Director quickly put an arm around her, thinking she might faint.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked. Not waiting for a reply, he motioned the guard to pull up a chair.

"What's... the matter?" the stranger asked. As before, his speech was halting, as if talking demanded a
great deal of effort. However, his tired face bore a look of concern for Sasha.

"She recognizes you," Hooter said as he helped Sasha into the chair.

The stranger concentrated for a few seconds, then his expression was suddenly filled with hope. He looked pleadingly at Sasha. "You know... who I am?"

"Dr. Waddlemeyer..." came her barely audible whisper.

Crouching in front of her, Hooter turned his back to the stranger and spoke in low tones so that only she could hear. "Noel Waddlemeyer?" he asked.

She nodded slowly. "How...?"

"I can explain, but first are you all right?"

She nodded again, though neither her expression nor her pallor had changed.

"Please..." came the pained voice of the time traveller, "who am I?"

Sasha's face was suddenly filled with pity, and she rose from the chair and went to the scientist. Director Hooter followed closely, letting her hold onto his arm for support. "You are Dr. Noel Waddlemeyer."

The stranger listened intently to her reply, then considered her words. A faint smile began to grow on his face. "Noel Waddlemeyer..." he tried for himself.

"How did this happen?" Sasha asked Hooter, her eyes still fixed on her once-mentor who was now lost in thought.

"I'm not sure you'll believe it," Hooter began. "I'm not even sure I believe it."

"Just tell me."

Hooter sighed in resignation. "An accident in time travel." He shook his head. "I know, it sounds..."

"Of course," she interrupted, her voice filled with awe. "Time travel. It makes perfect sense. But how?"

"That'll take a lot longer to explain, and I don't think I can do it all that well."

"It can wait," she said quietly, then looked back at her teacher. "Do you remember your name now?" she asked, her voice quavering with emotion.

He looked down at her with a smile of gratitude. "It sounds... familiar. Thank you. Are... you all right?"

Tears welled up in her eyes and she laughed, shaking her head. "You're one to ask," she replied affectionately. "Please," she said to the guard, "could you bring Dr. Waddlemeyer a chair?"

Chairs were pulled up for both of them, and they sat facing each other silently. Director Hooter, concerned for his old friend, sat close to Sasha. She still had tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Have... I upset you?" Waddlemeyer asked.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Waddlemeyer," Sasha said, wiping her eyes. "I just can't help remembering."

He closed his eyes, straining to understand her words. She turned to Director Hooter in distress. "What's wrong with him, Noel?" she begged.

"As long as he's been here," Hooter explained, "he's had difficulty talking and understanding. Seeing too, I think. We don't know how to help him."

She shook her head sorrowfully. "Being out of his time is probably enough."

"I do understand..." Dr. Waddlemeyer said. "What you say... It just... takes time to... come to me. I have... to concentrate."

"I wish I could help," Sasha said, another tear falling from her cheek.

Waddlemeyer considered, then replied. "You are helping," he assured her. "You know what... happened to me. Can... you tell me?"

"You were accidentally pulled forward in time," she explained, wiping her shirtsleeve across her cheeks. "You belong in the year 1958. You are now in the year 2014."

It seemed to take longer for the information to register this time. "I'm not sure I... understand. Time...?"

"You're in the future," she said simply. "You disappeared in your time and reappeared now. Do you understand?"

"But... how?"

She shook her head. "That can be explained later. I'm not sure myself."

He thought for a little while again. "Please tell... me more. Who are... you?"

"I'm Sasha," she said, her voice quavering again. "I was your assistant. Sasha Darling. Do you remember me?"

"Assistant?"

"You're a scientist - an inventor. You work for SHUSH."

"SHUSH..." He was lost in thought once more.

She turned to Director Hooter. "Noel, check the computer files. You must have some pictures - some
thing in the archives that could help him to remember."

He shook his head. "The visual files don't go back that far," he said. "I'm sure I don't have any pictures of that time."

"That's okay. Just go to the earliest pictures you can. Find one of your mother. Make sure it's in colour."

"My mother?"

"Please?" she said urgently.

Hooter nodded and went to the computer terminal that was set up in the room while Sasha turned back to Dr. Waddlemeyer.

"Is anything sounding familiar?" she asked sympathetically.

He smiled at her. "Yes, but... like you're reminding... me of a dream."

"How well can you see me?" Sasha asked.

"I see through... a tunnel. If... I concentrate, I... can focus."

She nodded. "Director Hooter is going to show you some pictures. They'll help you to remember." She looked over to the Director. "How are you doing, Noel?"

He looked back at his old friend and his namesake with a pained expression. "The first picture of Mom is a colour portrait on the front page of the newspaper. It's the 1970 article."

The terrible memory suddenly came back to Sasha as well. That was the year they nearly lost her. In his first truly threatening attack on St. Canard, Leon Ardo had brought a small band of other-world mercenaries to help him fight. As always, she and her husband were in the thick of things, trying to second guess Leon's every move. Anticipating his next strike, they had gone ahead with reinforcements and caught him and his henchmen off guard. In the battle that followed, Noel Hooter's mother was too close to a wall that collapsed, and was almost completely buried under the rubble. Torn between his hatred for St. Canard and his love for her, Leon rushed to her side. Noel's father beat him to it, and smashed the helmet that allowed him to travel between dimensions. Then before she lost consciousness, Noel's mother was able to pull her arm free and activate the controls when he was down, sending him back to the dimensional tunnel with the damaged device. Their brilliant teamwork had saved the city, but at a great cost. Noel's mother lost the use of her legs forever, and had to step down from active field agent status. Although that allowed her the opportunity to learn and excel in all the other areas of SHUSH, and eventually earn her the position of Director, she was never as happy as she was as a field agent. Somehow having his mother confined to a wheelchair never felt right to anyone. Perhaps that was another fate that could be avoided if the time travel accident was corrected, thought Director Hooter hopefully.

Sasha rose and came to the computer terminal. The photograph was a good one - probably a professional portrait taken before the accident. She was smiling, and her bright red hair was partially pulled back as she had often worn it. She looked much the same as she would have the last time Dr. Waddlemeyer had seen her twelve years earlier. "Can you enlarge the photo?" she asked the Director quietly. "I don't think Dr. Waddlemeyer should see the article."

Hooter clicked on the image and enlarged it to fill the screen. Sasha looked up and motioned to her old professor to come over. He approached them and leaned close to the monitor, squinting his eyes and concentrating hard. This time there was no hesitation or doubt. "Gosalyn!"

The meeting was called for 8:00 that morning. Director Hooter felt an urgent need to clarify the situation caused by their visitors, and perhaps reach a solution to the complications that had arisen as a result of this accident in time. If the time travellers were the key to the undoing of Leon Ardo, the Director needed to take advantage of them immediately. As they met, the streets just blocks away from SHUSH headquarters were filled with the noise of battle and destruction. It was only a matter of hours - perhaps minutes - before they would have to evacuate the building and take refuge in the basement shelters.

Looking around the room, he saw those few he called in to this meeting - those who were, in one way or another, closely linked to the issue. His sister sat in the chair beside his at the head of the table. Noel Waddlemeyer was sitting quietly a few seats down. Sasha Webfoot and Honker Muddlefoot stood in the back corner of the room, speaking in hushed voices with grim expressions on their faces. Director Hooter once more regretted having to involve Sasha in these dealings. She had always looked young for her age, and was surprisingly strong as well, but the recent events were obviously taking their toll on her. When he called them over to begin the meeting, he could see that she had been crying again, and Muddlefoot had to help her to her seat next to Waddlemeyer.

There were no longer guards posted within the room, and the doors were locked to any unwelcome guests. Now that time travel had been confirmed as the root of the mystery, Hooter took every precaution
he could to minimize any further contact with the `alternate reality' members of their group.

"Thank you for coming," Hooter said to the other four. "I've called this meeting to clarify to all involved exactly what has transpired. Hopefully we will also be able to come to a resolution on the Ardo crisis. I understand, Dr. Muddlefoot, that you've had a chance to work with your time machine. Could you briefly explain to us what happened?"

"Yes, sir," Honker replied, rising from his seat. "One of the dangers in time travel is not knowing the conditions that await you when you arrive." He went to a white board and began drawing some simple stick figure diagrams to illustrate his explanation. "The time machine was built primarily to travel through time, not space. When forced to travel any distance, it did so rather erratically. To minimize any danger, we, in my reality, were programming the machine to scout ahead before actually initiating the transference."

"You mean the machine went ahead without you?" asked the Director.

"No - that could prove even more dangerous. All the program would do was look along the time stream and analyze the destination. That way if any physical dangers were present - for example if a large wall had been built on the spot you were occupying, the operator could make the necessary adjustments before the time sequence began, to be sure they wouldn't materialize in solid concrete. The time machine would execute a spatial manoeuvre simultaneous to the temporal shift, hopefully avoiding any haphazard landings."

"And how does this account for Dr. Waddlemeyer being here?" asked Faye.

"If he was occupying the same space in his time as I was in mine, then it is very probable that the time machine was in the midst of scanning him and when I pulled the programming cassette from the time machine's console. Since it was already short circuiting from the water flowing onto its circuits, it set up a sort of feedback loop which yanked Dr. Waddlemeyer forward in time." Honker pulled the slightly scorched cassette from his pocket and laid it on the table.

"Then why is he suffering from a sensory disruption?"

"I'm not sure. It might be something as straightforward as the shock of transporting suddenly over 50 years, but more likely it's because he was dragged through the time stream without the benefit of the time machine's energy shields which maintain the operator's temporal integrity. That would also explain why I remember my reality, and why there is another Honker Muddlefoot here. I was essentially outside of time's influence, within the sphere of the time machine's protection. When the accident happened, time simply reasserted itself around me."

"All right then," Hooter said. "The final question: can we put him back?"

Honker took a deep breath and resumed his seat. "I can't be one hundred percent certain but... I believe so."

"And you say that once he is back, Leon Ardo will cease to be a threat to us in this time?"

Honker looked uncomfortably over to Sasha, then back to the Director. "Yes," he said hesitantly, "that's right."

Director Hooter stood. "Well, let's not wait then. Whatever repairs and alterations that need to be made to the machine should be done immediately. The sooner we get Dr. Waddlemeyer home, the better."

"It's not as easy as that, Noel." Sasha's voice was strained as she fought with her emotions.

"What do you mean?"

She looked at the Director and his sister. It seemed her heart was breaking. "You know I love both of you very much..." she began.

Hooter suddenly had a cold feeling at the pit of his stomach. "What's wrong?" he said, going quickly to Sasha's side.

Faye went with him, her face filled with fear. "Are you all right, Sasha?" she asked, putting an arm around her.

Sasha tried to take in a deep breath, but couldn't. "Noel... Faye..." she began. She tried again to breathe deeply and think clearly. "Dr. Muddlefoot has told me more about his reality," she said finally. "You will both have to make... a great sacrifice for this peace."

"What do you mean?" Faye asked. "Noel and I specifically?"

Sasha nodded.

Director Hooter shook his head in sympathy at his old friend. "Sasha, I know you don't want us hurt, but no sacrifice would be too great to stop this war. You must know that."

"I would do anything to stop Ardo," said Faye with conviction. "In fact, for Noel and me to be a part of bringing peace to St. Canard would be an honour."

"I'd give my life for it," Hooter said without hesitation. Faye nodded her agreement.

Sasha shook her head and closed her eyes to the pain she felt. "Would you give even more than that?"

"More than my life?" asked Hooter.

"What are you saying, Sasha?" Faye asked.

"If Honker succeeds in returning Dr. Waddlemeyer to his own time..." she struggled with the words she was forced to say. "...you - both of you - will... never have been born."

A moment of silence sat heavily on all of them.

"I don't understand..." Faye began. "We don't exist in his reality?"

Sasha shook her head, unable to say any more.

"Your mother married Noel Waddlemeyer," Honker said softly, not knowing what to do to help them through this. "J. Gander Hooter never married. I'm sorry..." He trailed off too, at a loss for words.

Director Hooter looked at his sister, then back to Honker. "Do you mean to say that our lives - our entire lives were a result of your time accident?"

Honker nodded. Like Sasha, he had no idea what could be said. How could he tell them that they weren't supposed to exist - that his experiment caused their existence, and that to set things right, they would have to be snuffed out like a candle. He shuddered, unable to imagine what they must be feeling.

"But... how can that be?" Faye asked to no one in particular. "I do exist. How could I just not be? I am here..." She turned her haunted expression to Sasha. "How can I suddenly just never have been?"

"I don't know," Sasha whispered, taking Faye's hand.

Suddenly the sound of a nearby explosion shattered the silence, and the whole room jarred. The walls began cracking and crumbling as they shook themselves out of their thoughts and scrambled for the door. Alarm bells were ringing throughout the building as agents filled the halls and crowded towards the stairways.

"Don't panic!" Director Hooter called at the top of his lungs to the people. "Make your way to the shelter in an orderly fashion! Take your time and no one will get hurt!"

The building shook again at the sound of another blast. The agents, trained to react calmly to circumstances just like this one, stood nervously waiting as the stairwells filled. The pace was agonizingly slow, but at least they were moving.

Honker grabbed the Director's arm. "I have to save the time machine!" he said above the rumbling.

Hooter thought for a moment, then nodded. "Faye," he said, turning to his sister. "Get Sasha and Dr. Waddlemeyer down to the shelter. We'll meet you there."

Director Hooter raced back along the hallway and Honker followed as quickly as he could through the tide of bodies pressing in the other direction. They skidded to a stop in front of the elevator doors.

"Wouldn't the elevators be out of service because of the attack?" Honker asked.

The Director nodded curtly. "We won't be using the elevators though." He signaled a pair of larger agents over to assist them in prying open the doors. "The quickest route up is through the elevator shaft. I hope you're a good climber, it's four stories!" Honker grinned nervously. What choice did he have?

The agents Director Hooter had enlisted gave them a boost up through the elevator roof. Honker was relieved that the unit was at the bottom, and they would be in no danger of it rushing down upon them. The climb also proved to be not so bad, as there was a service ladder set into the side wall. It was strenuous though, and both of them were breathing heavily after a single floor. A ferocious rumble shook the building and they floundered momentarily, hugging the wall as best they could as dust and small debris rained down the gloomy shaft, before resuming the trek.

It took longer at the top to pry the doors open again, but somehow they managed. Honker's legs ached from the unaccustomed exercise, but he stumbled along after Hooter to the lab where the time machine was being kept. He tried to ignore the view from the window. The way the energy beams lanced across the sky reminded him of the constant lightning the night of the accident. Hooter faced the view with a grimness before turning back towards him.

"What are you doing?!" he said in alarm. Honker had crawled into the operator's seat and was motioning him to get in as well.

"There's no chance of us getting this thing back down to the basement shelters! Get in!" He was fumbling for the program tape. The lining of his jacket pocket had reversed itself around the cassette and now he was having to untwist the material to extricate it.

"Are you planning on just driving it out of here?" the Director shouted in disbelief.

"We won't really be going anywhere! Please, just trust me!" Reluctantly, he climbed into the passenger seat, and sat nervously as the gander next to him initiated a specific sequence. A low thrumming accompanied the oompahs _ like the cassette tape was stretched. The noise only served to disconcert the Director further. Suddenly all noise except for the stretched notes of the music vanished. The surroundings took on
a eerie lighting, and even Honker found himself craning his neck in wonder to stare all around them.

"What's happening? Are we _ are we time travelling?" asked Hooter in a quiet voice.

"Not really. I've just used the machine to throw us out of time. To someone outside, we might appear frozen _ in stasis. In actual fact, I've just sort of put us in an observer's role. Time is still flowing around us, and our own personal bodies are aging, but the time in here," he gestured to the two of them, "has nothing to do with the time out there that everyone else is experiencing." The Director nodded _ seeming to understand. The sudden cessation of outside noises though made them both talk quietly and almost reverently. They could still see the office, but the colours were weak, and things almost looked transparent.

"How long do we sit here?" he asked after a long silence.

"Until things calm down I suppose. I could try to move us forward a bit…"

"No! That might just make things worse. Let's _ just wait." Once again they lapsed into an uneasy silence as time outside rolled on inexorably.

An idea occurred to Honker, and while he wasn't sure how it might be received, he felt it had to be broached.

"You know, there might be a way for you and your sister to survive in my reality."

The Director looked startled _ more for Honker's abrupt speaking than in the topic of conversation. His eyes had the look of a man who had come to grips with his fate. "What do you mean?"

"I mean there might be a way for you not to _ well…"

"Cease to be?"

Honker winced at his frank language, but nodded. "The same way that we are now _ the same circumstances that allow me to remember my reality but exist in yours. You and Faye could come with me. If we return Dr. Waddlemeyer with you and Faye aboard, you would be outside the timestream when it reasserts itself."

"But we still wouldn't exist," he said sadly, with the same acceptance Honker had read in his eyes only moments before. "We would have no family _ no histories. My wife and children _ could you bring them along too? My grandchildren? I would be a non-person on the pages of history. I have lived a good life. I have lived and loved…" Slowly he brought out his wallet and pulled out some photos to show Honker: his wife, his children at a family picnic, he and his father (the J. Gander Honker remembered) standing by an old car smiling to the camera. Finally, he handed over a worn photo of himself and his bride on their wedding day, with the proud parents from both couples crowded close beside them. Honker didn't know the elderly lady sitting in the wheelchair by his side, but the resemblance was too strong and he pointed to her.

"This is your mother." It was not a question.

"Yes _ how did you…?" Honker pulled out his own wedding photo from his wallet and passed it back to Noel. His eyes widened in amazement and wordlessly he handed back the photo. He drew a long breath before speaking again.

"Your wife is…" he halted, unable to voice his question.

"My Gosalyn. Your mom's granddaughter in my reality. She doesn't exist here … neither does our _" Honker stopped, unwilling to say more.

"I have had my life, and you deserve yours," The Director said. "I know I live now, and however the universe works, I cannot believe I will never have existed. I can't speak for my sister, but I would rather not exist at all than have to endure without my family. My world may be a harsher place than yours, but it is the only one I belong in, just as you belong in yours." Honker simply looked at him _ unable to speak, not knowing what to say even if he could. Mutely he placed a hand on Noel's shoulder. Director Hooter only stared back at him with those strong, yet haunted eyes.

"I will always remember you," Honker said finally.

"You will be the only one."

The last of the SHUSH agents filed into the honeycomb of passages that extended deep beneath street level, and the reinforced doors were shut against intrusion. The hollow booming sound as the locks swung into place echoed down the packed corridors and served as a signal to disperse any lingering crowd. With a practiced discipline the agents and officers doubled up into the office space that existed. They would continue to work as best as they could as the assault on SHUSH's exterior continued above.

Sasha sat down wearily in her alternate office space as Faye and Dr. Waddlemeyer tried to make themselves comfortable in the cramped quarters. She could see Faye attempting to do some of her own tasks on her palmtop while Dr. Waddlemeyer simply tried to stay out of the way. The helpless expression on his face made her heart ache. Sasha was struck by how very young he looked compared to the professor of her
memories. In the past, he was a full decade older than her, and she was just a child, insecure and in need of guidance. He had gone too early - left her alone too soon. She recognized that feeling of helplessness in Dr. Waddlemeyer's expression now. Fifty-six years ago, it was her own.

She turned her gaze away from him, having to suppress the urge to talk to him overmuch. While his memory did seem to be returning, it would be dangerous to discuss the intervening years with him, in case there was any foreknowledge that could disrupt time further on his return.

Time travel had always been theoretical, but the reality of Leon Ardo's attacks on the city had forestalled any funding into further research. She longed for the time that Honker Muddlefoot represented where the city was never under the constant threat of attack.

The lights dimmed and surged as secondary generators worked to support the huge hidden complex, and tiredly, Sasha powered up her personal work station to see if there were any updates on the situation topside. Work would help keep her from wondering where the Director was with the mysterious Dr. Muddlefoot. There wasn't much information yet on the assault, but a sudden network alert caught her attention. Punching through with her senior clearances, her breath caught in a sudden gasp at the news. Unbelievable!

"Faye! Come here quickly!" she gestured for Dr. Hooter to read the information displayed on her monitor.

"Could it be? Here? Now?!" Faye asked astonished.

"It must be! There's no way the agents reporting would…"

"What…Is there something… wrong?" asked Noel in his gentle, halting voice. Sasha and Faye exchanged a worried look. Faye crossed the brief space to him.

"There is..." she began.

"Don't worry Dr. Waddlemeyer," Sasha said, speaking slowly and directly to him. "There is a _ situation, but our agents are in charge of it." She paused a moment, considering what to do next, then looked back to Faye. "I think they'll need me there, but Dr. Waddlemeyer would not be safe. Could you stay here with him?"

Faye looked at her with uncertainty. "You won't be safe either, Sasha. Do you really have to go?"

Sasha nodded. "There could be any number of complications they'd need me for."

"Then I want to go with you. You shouldn't have to do this alone."

Noel's brow furrowed as he considered their conversation. "Tell me what's... wrong," he insisted.

Sasha looked worriedly at Faye, then at her teacher. "Our people have captured Leon Ardo," she said after a considered pause.

Dr. Waddlemeyer thought for a moment, then his face took on an expression of understanding and concern. "I... remember Leon now," he said with certainty. "I won't let... you go alone."

"Dr. Waddlemeyer," Sasha said, "of all people, you should not go with me."

"I can help," he said. "Leon... knows me."

"Leon hates you, Dr. Waddlemeyer," Faye said flatly. "You would not be safe. He'd do anything to kill you."

"Would he... call off his... troops?" he asked. He had already decided. "I will go... with you."

Leon Ardo floated mere millimeters from the floor of his cell. Not noticeable to anyone else, but noticeable to him. He ground his teeth at the eerie sensation _ it was like walking on a cold oiled surface. Privately he raged against the cruelty of his oppressors that had made him this way. The fact that his current condition was self-induced did not matter to him. Long ago he had ceased to accept any responsibility for his own actions and he wasn't going to start now. Settling onto the bare cot his jailers had provided, he sneered at the pathetic guards. He could leave any time he wished. They would find out the futility of trying to hold him. He lay down, once again trying to ignore the air that slid across his back like mercury. Briefly, he wondered if he'd ever get used to this feeling. He assumed what he felt would be an artful pose of relaxation to spite those who thought they had incarcerated him, and closed his eyes.

The door to the secondary brig opened and Leon pretended to ignore the conversation of the guards with whomever had entered.

"He's in here, Dr. Webfoot." That would be the ineffectual guard. "He was sobbing like a baby when we found him." They were so gullible, he thought, conveniently remembering the events in his own sequence.

"Is he secure?" asked a new voice. It was older, and feminine.

"Hard to say, ma'am," returned the guard. "I was one of the ones who brought him in, and if it's not too much speculation on my part _ well, he didn't feel quite right."

"Didn't feel right?"

"He felt _ it was almost like holding onto a bubble. There was no resistance to him. Almost like I couldn't get a grip on him." Leon sneered again. No one could comprehend his genius.

"Is… this…" began a halting voice. Leon's eyes blazed open. He knew that voice! He would always know that voice! In a sudden movement he leapt up from his bed to stare at his most hated rival. There _ standing before him after all the long, long years, was his nemesis, Noel Waddlemeyer. They had been hiding him _ Leon had always known it! He was so pitiful standing there, confused and unknowing, and as seemingly untouched by the years as Leon himself. Dimensional travelling had extended Leon's life at great cost, but Noel Waddlemeyer seemed not to have paid that price for his youth. It was one more injustice perpetrated by his enemy. With a growl of rage, Leon launched himself at the bars of his prison and beyond.

"Watch out!" shouted the guard as Leon arced smoothly past all barriers. The SHUSH agent tried to block his path to no effect. Leon continued on through him as well to grab Noel's shirt front.

"At last I've got you!" He breathed into the confused face of his arch-rival. Noel tried to push him away, but his hands passed through Leon with little resistance. Shaking with rage, Leon's concentration began to falter as Noel's shirt slid through his closed grip. Leon watched helplessly as his own body betrayed him.

"No!! Not after so long!" Leon screamed, beating the air and sinking to his knees. The older female scientist was bending over him with some sort of scanning device.

"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed. "He's saturated with quacktron particles!"

A second female scientist had drawn Noel back behind the guard, and began exchanging speculation with the first doctor on Leon's condition. He laughed then, and cut them off with a wave of his hand.

"No, I'm not radioactive. Fools." He rose and walked back through the bars into his cell to sit down. "I permanently irradiated myself years ago - to make me invincible to my enemies!"

"Permanently irradiated? How is that...?"

He cut off the speaker with another wave. It was a lofty gesture and he enjoyed using it. "It's child's play to one who travels dimensions," he said arrogantly.

Actually, it was an accident. Not all dimensions were safe for all lifeforms, and for his own protection and escape from a particularly brutal world he had irradiated himself far beyond what he considered to be the safe limit. His current state was only meant to be a temporary condition, but now he was forever trapped - surrounded by an aura of quacktrons that repelled all matter. Anything he touched could give way at the slightest pressure - it was only his diminutive stature that kept him from falling through floors. With a force of will he could negate the field long enough to actually touch things, but even when he concentrated, objects were as difficult to hold as a wet bar of soap and would dissolve through his hand if he applied too much pressure. Once something was in his grip, though, his aura surrounded it as well, and it too would pass through solid matter as if it were water. His condition had saved his life on countless occasions already, but the isolated half-existence was sometimes intolerable.

He noticed Noel shaking his head - trying to appear as intelligent as Leon himself was, no doubt. The look of pity on his face was infuriatingly patronizing.

"Quacktron exposure," Sasha said to her professor. "Forcing matter away from itself to allow passage. Leon used that before, didn't he?"

"Yes..." Dr. Waddlemeyer said distantly.

"I nearly had you that time," Leon growled. His temper flared and he rose again to confront Noel. "It's your fault! It's all your fault I'm this way! I can't control it anymore!" Leon was gesturing wildly and the onlookers watched as his hands appeared to pass repeatedly through the bars and walls of the enclosure. Then he fell to his knees and began sobbing.

"Leon Ardo," Faye said authoritatively. "Call off your assault on the city and we'll try to help you."

Leon glared at her, his eyes full of pain and hatred. "You couldn't help me even if you did want to," he spat viciously. "And I can't help you."

"I could... help you," Dr. Waddlemeyer urged, stepping forward.

Leon's eyes narrowed as he shook with fury. "You want to kill me," he growled. "But you can't. They can't either, though they tried." His face twisted into a cruel smile and he whispered, "At least they will kill you." The certainty in his voice was chilling.

Sasha stepped in front of Dr. Waddlemeyer. "Who do you mean?"

"Them," Leon said, his hands gesturing above him.

"The army?" Faye asked, horrified. "Your soldiers?"

"Not my soldiers!" Leon snapped. "Not anymore. They used me to come here. They promised to help me wreak revenge, but the moment we arrived they took my device and turned their weapons on me." As
if to punctuate his words a dull thud resounded through the underground structure and the lights momentarily dimmed. He glared upwards contemptuously. "They already have the city at their mercy, and they will rule it like the barbaric world they came from. But the idiots have no idea the power they have in their possession." He turned his steely gaze back to his captors. "That is why I allowed you to bring me here. You must get my device back."

The silence in the room was broken only by the continued rumbling from above. "St. Canard is only the beginning," Faye said in disbelief. "They could attack any dimension they wish..."

"Until an even more vicious race gets a hold of the device," Sasha said. She turned to Leon with an anger she had never before felt. "What have you done?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Leon dismissed her question with another wave of his hand and turned his back on them. "I should have expected you to blame me. What they do with the device which they stole from me is not my responsibility. But I don't supposed you can understand that."

Dr. Waddlemeyer put his hand on Sasha's shaking shoulder. "There is no... point in... continuing," he said quietly. She looked into his troubled eyes and he shook his head sadly. He was right, of course.

They turned and left, the fate of the city now seeming to be beyond hope. Alone with his guard, Leon chuckled to himself. "At least I know that you will die, Noel Waddlemeyer," he muttered. "That alone is worth it."

Sasha felt numb as they left the holding cell. She was grateful for the strong and steady arm of Dr. Waddlemeyer which she held as she walked.

Faye addressed the outer guard. "Has the Assistant Director been notified that Ardo is here?"

"Yes ma'am. However, a corridor came down and he's on the other side co-ordinating the clean-up from there. We've not located the Director…"

"The Director was unable to make it before the doors closed," she told the guard in a tight voice. "He was engaged in a necessary operation." The guard accepted her information stoically, but she still glanced upward in silent wonder at where he was.

"What do we do now?" Sasha asked Faye. She was unsure if her trembling was the result of the cool air in the basement complex, the anger and frustration she felt, or sheer exhaustion. For the first time in her life she was feeling old.

"There's not a lot we can do except wait," she replied. "We'll just have to hope the battle will either die out or take itself to another section of the city and leave SHUSH standing." Her eyes became distant, but her face bore a look of resolve. "The sooner we can get Dr. Waddlemeyer back to the time machine, the better."

In the safe grip of Honker Muddlefoot's time machine, the Director had been able to partially witness the assault on the city as it passed overhead, but was otherwise helpless to do anything. The golf cart construction of the device certainly didn't allow much leg room and he shifted his position again on the hard plastic seat trying to get comfortable.

"What happens if the building crumbles around us?" he asked suddenly.

Honker looked up from the controls he had been fiddling with. He had obviously had his train of thought interrupted and it took a moment for the Director's words to sink in and be processed. He gave Hooter a sheepish grin. "I have no idea." Bending back to the control board for a moment, he made some adjustments. "There. Now we'll be okay if the building crumbles."

"What did you do?"

"I set our co-ordinates to an absolute setting. If the building collapses we'll simply be suspended in mid-air until I adjust our physical point of re-entry into the real time. I'm ashamed I hadn't considered the possibility of the building's destruction."

"You haven't been paying attention to what's been going on around us then," said the Director pointedly.

"No, I guess I haven't." Honker returned to his task, continuing to ignore the violence.

"What are you doing, anyway?" asked Hooter.

"Since we're stuck here for the duration, I decided to work up the necessary calculations to return Dr. Waddlemeyer to his own time. I figured you'll want to do that as soon as possible after this assault ends." Director Hooter nodded, keeping the worry to himself that Noel Waddlemeyer, Sasha and his sister might not even survive the assault.

"So you can do it?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes. I'm quite sure of it. As well, I think I can state with certainty that he won't remember any of this
time." Honker winced momentarily at his choice of words, but the Director motioned him to elaborate.

"As near as I can figure, it was the trauma of travelling through the time stream that forced him out of sync with this time and robbed him of his memory. When I return him, I can blunt that effect so he won't feel the same neurological assault. However, I think his memory loss was caused by his misalignment with this time period. I expect that his improvements in memory must correspond to his physical self assuming the rhythm of our present time. There ought to be an interval after I return him where he experiences a similar disorientation, but since he'll have been returned to his point of origin, I hope the effect will be minimal. "

"Won't that mean he'll remember what's happened here?" asked the Director, concerned about the implications.

"Doubtful. In a perfect scenario, his personal reality would assert itself and his memory will function from that point on as if he had never disappeared. However, current temporal theory suggests he'll remember something - like a vague fading dream, but no specific events. To him, this time won't have happened yet. There'll be nothing to remember."
"Sounds more like philosophy than science," the Director said with a wry smile. Honker smiled back, and then returned to his work.

"I think we should get out of this contraption now," said Hooter after a short while, with an unexpected note of urgency.

"What makes you say that?" said Honker, not bothering to look up.

"They do," he replied, pointing to the office surroundings.

Sasha and Faye had been conversing in quiet tones, reluctant to let Dr. Waddlemeyer hear them.

"You mustn't!" Faye hissed.

"I will," she insisted. Sasha had always maintained a demeanor of professional quiet, even during the most hectic years of Leon's attacks, and Faye was unprepared for the forcefulness of her current resolve.

"Sasha, if you send Dr. Waddlemeyer back with foreknowledge of Ardo's attacks, it could cause as much damage to the time stream as his disappearance."

"Faye, maybe I'm talking from the viewpoint of years, and certainly I don't remember Dr. Waddlemeyer having any foreknowledge of Leon's first attack on St. Canard, but that was because he wasn't there! SHUSH was mobilized for that initial attack by Leon because we thought Leon had kidnapped him!"

Dr. Waddlemeyer, who had been politely keeping his distance, finally gave up and crossed the room to them.

"What... is it?" he asked.

"Sasha wants to send you back with information from the future."

"But... this future will... cease to exist?" he asked. "Won't the events... disappear as well?"

Faye was about to reply, but Sasha shot her a warning look. Once again Faye was struck by the strength of will in SHUSH's scientific matriarch.

"The one event I have in mind," Sasha explained, "would have occurred regardless of your disappearance, Dr. Waddlemeyer. Shortly after you disappeared, Leon Ardo launched his first attack on St. Canard. At the time, we were expecting it because we thought he had already abducted you. However, if we send you back without this information, SHUSH will never be ready for the attack because there will have been no warning signs." She turned to Faye. "For heaven's sake, we could be sending him back to his death!"

Faye was momentarily speechless, her expression turning to horror. "Then this time might still have happened, and St. Canard..."

"St. Canard would still be being blasted to ruin around us," said Sasha coldly. "We must take every precaution that doesn't happen!"

Dr. Waddlemeyer closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Clearly, all his faculties had not yet returned, and he obviously had difficulty following the exchange. "If I can... go back, I'm not sure I... will remember... Things are still so..."

Sasha laid a trembling hand on his arm in reassurance, then moved back to her desk. "I'll write you a note. Then all you'll have to do is keep it safe, and if you do get back, the information will go with you."

Faye still looked unsure. "I don't think the Director or Dr. Muddlefoot would approve of the risk you're proposing."

"They aren't here. Please, trust me on this." Faye sighed and nodded.

The warning klaxons caught them all unawares just as Sasha had her pen poised over the paper.

"What is it?" Faye asked. Sasha had already flipped on her monitor and was scanning the internal network alert.

"Prisoner escape!" she exclaimed.

"Prisoner... but the only prisoner in SHUSH is..."

"I guess he got tired of waiting for his alien hordes to kill us first," Sasha said grimly. She abandoned any ideas she might have had about a properly composed letter and hastily scribbled down the necessary information and thrust the folded paper into Noel's hands. "Keep this safe, Dr. Waddlemeyer," she said fervently. "The future of St. Canard depends on it."

"There you are!" screamed the insane voice of Leon Ardo. He was partially exposed from the side wall of the office and lunged towards Noel, swinging a broom handle that he must have found in a storage cupboard. Noel ducked belatedly, but so disturbed was Leon at seeing his rival that he failed to control himself and the stick swung harmlessly through him.

"We've got to get him out of here!" Sasha said, tugging on Noel's arm. Faye leapt in front of Leon, trying to slow his assault.

"Get out of my way!" he shouted, whipping around his broom handle again. This time it remained solid and cracked sickeningly against Faye's arm. She staggered sideways and fell to her knees, but managed to grab the end of the stick with her other hand.

"Let go!" Leon whined like a petulant child. Before either one could act, Noel grabbed the center of the stick with both hands and thrust it towards Leon, throwing his nemesis through the far office wall.

"Are you all right?" he asked, helping Faye to her feet. She tried bending and straightening her arm while she rubbed it then nodded, but the pain showed in her eyes. The trio rushed into the corridor and ran its length before Leon could recover himself enough to return. They rounded a corner and ducked into another office, startling the occupants.

"It's only a matter of time before he finds us here," Faye gasped. Sasha was winded as well, and unable to speak as she leaned against a desk for support. "You have to stay here, Sasha. There's no way you can continue this pace."

Sasha shook her head. "He'll find Dr. Waddlemeyer. We're too limited down here."

"Then maybe we shouldn't stay here," Faye answered with determination. Being the sister of the current Director had leant Faye a certain amount of authority and she used it now, delivering terse orders to Security through her palmtop. With her good arm, Faye gave Sasha an impulsive hug out of gratitude for all the aged scientist had done, then left her in the safekeeping of the other SHUSH agents before racing back out into the underground hallways with Dr. Waddlemeyer. Other agents, armed with a variety of weapons, rushed back along the way they had come, presumably acting on her requests to keep Leon distracted and away from the upper levels.

"Are you sure you want to go out there, ma'am?" asked the Security agent at the doors leading to the surface. "It's quiet now, but you never know when those ships might circle back for another attack run. And our forces are up there too. We haven't been able to alert them you're coming."

"We haven't got a choice," she said. "Give me your sidearm - I might need it." With only a moment's hesitation the agent unbuckled his gun and passed it over.

"Be careful," he said.

She nodded tersely and rushed out into the gloom with Dr. Waddlemeyer close behind.

Honker looked up through the field's haze in the direction the Director was pointing. Noel Waddlemeyer and Faye had entered the room, out of breath and dishevelled. He quickly cut the power to the time field and the two of them leapt from their seats. The dull rumble of disrupters destroying buildings in the distance answered their unspoken question. The attack on the city was not yet over, and Director Hooter could only wonder at what crisis could have prompted his sister to risk both her life and Dr. Waddlemeyer's to come up to the lab. She was holding her arm and limping slightly, but waved off his assistance.

"It's nothing," she said, shaking plaster dust from her hair. "I tripped over some debris as we were coming up the stairwell."

"Why are you...?" began Honker.

"Leon... is down below..." Dr. Waddlemeyer began.

"Leon Ardo?!" the Director exclaimed. "Here? How?"

"It'd take too long to explain," his sister said. "He's quite mad, as we've always known, and he's done something to himself physically. Walls can't stop him, and we can't hold him with our current setup down there. A regular prison cell might as well be fog."

"And he recognized Dr. Waddlemeyer? Even after all these years?"

"I'm afraid so. Dr. Waddlemeyer insisted on coming with Sasha and me when we went to see Leon..."

"And now Leon's out for revenge," Honker concluded. Faye leaned against a littered desktop and nodded. Noel Waddlemeyer was looking carefully at the time machine.

"Have you completed your calculations, Dr. Muddlefoot?" asked the Director.

"As much as I can. The rest would have to be done in progress to be sure I returned Dr. Waddlemeyer precisely," Honker resumed his place behind the controls and motioned for Dr. Waddlemeyer to join him. Looking back at the Director he said, "You know, it's not too late to change your mind."

Director Hooter shook his head and then pulled his sister aside for a whispered conference. Faye looked up suddenly and then back at the time machine for a moment before she too shook her head.

"It's a kind offer," she said to Honker sadly, "but I can't leave my family. Even if our reality remains intact, I couldn't leave." She linked her arm through her brother's as another rumble shook the sky and echoed through the empty corridors of the SHUSH building.

The Director glanced around in alarm. "You'd better be on your way." The sounds of fighter ships were getting closer. Honker opened his mouth but there was really nothing more to say. Instead, he smiled to them in admiration then bent to his controls.

"I hope this time the ride won't be quite so bumpy," he said to his passenger. Dr. Waddlemeyer looked nervous, but said nothing in response.

The time machine began its power up sequence and the sound of oompahs began to grow in volume, overriding the artificial thunder outside. Suddenly, louder still, Honker heard Faye scream "No!" He looked up in alarm to see a small bespectacled duck emerging from through the wall beside the door, and lunging toward the time machine.

"I'll kill you yet, Noel Waddlemeyer!" the insane Leon Ardo screamed. Desperately Honker slammed his hand down on the controls to activate the temporal shields, hoping to quickly put them beyond Leon's grasp. However, as Ardo's hands met the barrier generated by the ever louder oompahs, weird energy disruptions arced out from the contact, raking the room with deadly lightning. Honker and Noel could see the Director push his sister into the hall away from the onslaught. Moments later, he returned wielding a length of wood to try and get Leon away from the time machine. Unfortunately, Leon remained impervious to this physical attack and Hooter was still in danger from the bolts which filled the room.

Honker waved at the Director, wordlessly insisting he get to safety. Realizing the futility of his actions, Hooter dropped the plank. He hesitated, looking anxiously at them once more, then ran out the door.

Protected within the cocoon of the time machine's field, Noel and Honker could only imagine the epithets Leon appeared to be shrieking at them. Looking at Noel, Honker saw that he was more alert now. Safely outside of time's influence, his memory and full faculties had likely returned.

"Hopefully this will get rid of him," Honker said, pushing forward the control stick. The time machine only rocked ominously.

"What is it?!" Noel demanded.

Honker's hands danced over the controls in a frenzy. "I don't know! Whatever weird energy Leon is charged with is somehow anchoring us here! We can't move out of this time, but I won't dare lower the shields either."

"Leon is charged with quacktrons. Does that help? He's surrounded himself with an aura of quacktron particles."

"Quacktrons? I never studied quacktron theory. This device runs on the properties of trachyons."

"Quacktrons are a polarized particle. If you can generate enough of a charge, we should be able to take advantage of his state and repel him across the room." Honker quickly made the adjustments. There was no time to question him now. He could only hope this scientist from the past was as knowledgeable as his reputation purported him to be.

A new beat began in the musical program that drove the time machine. It had a vicious percussive quality and Noel clapped his hands over his ears as the volume built in intensity. Honker was also clearly disturbed by the new sound, but kept his hands solidly on the controls, waiting for the moment when Leon might loose his grip.

Outside the temporal field, Leon's screams of rage turned to screams of pain, and his face was a twisted mask of agony - yet his hands never left their contact with the field. Noel and Honker stared in horrified fascination as the nemesis of St. Canard clawed the energy walls of the time machine like an animal. The interference of that contact began taking its toll on Ardo, and the energy bolts slashed his slight frame, tearing his clothing and leaving scorch marks on his exposed feathers. Still he didn't release them. Honker shouted something to Noel, the words were lost in the din of thundering polka, but his intent was clear. Moving one hand to the volume switch Honker pushed it suddenly to its maximum position. Leon exploded across the room like a living lightning bolt, shooting beyond their sight through the far wall. Chunks
of the ceiling began to rain down on them. In a second abrupt move, Honker shoved the control stick forward tossing them out of time.

Silhouettes danced on the walls like distended shadow puppets and the two desperate travellers spun through the disrupted currents of time while oompahs echoed dreamlike around them. The last thing Noel heard was Honker's voice speaking to him out of the disorienting dark.

"Sorry about the ride."

"You're home early!"

Honker stood in the doorway and stared at his wife.

"Uh..." she said after a long uncomfortable pause. "Hard day at the office?"

He crossed the room and gathered her into his arms, releasing a long breath. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you too," she said, pulling away a little and giving him a puzzled look. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he said, reluctant to release her. "Everything is absolutely perfect. Where's Noelle?"

"In her room. This is her nap time, remember?"

Honker's smile grew even larger and he went to his daughter's bedroom. There she was, sleeping peacefully in her crib. He placed his hand gently on Noelle's back as if to prove to himself she was really there. Gosalyn followed him in and stood at his side, her arm around his back.

"You sure everything's okay?" she whispered.

Honker turned his gaze back to her, overwhelmed with relief. "I just came home early to be with my family," he said as he led her back out of the room. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

Her look turned to skepticism. "What about the project?"

"Over," Honker said decisively. "I just spent the last few hours in the basement of SHUSH dismantling it." He figured there was no point in saying that he was also on the top floor putting the finishing touches on it, and in fact was still there.

Gosalyn's eyes widened. "What?! Why?"

He smiled wearily. "It's a long story. I'll tell you later." He caught her up in another embrace which she returned happily.

There was the sound of a vehicle pulling up and Gosalyn groaned. "I hate to say this," she said, "but I volunteered to watch the new neighbours' kids while they did some moving in. That's probably them now."

Honker looked out the front window to see a van in the next door driveway and another car pulling up on the street. "Heh... so much for coming home early."

They made their way into the front yard as the young family began piling out of the van. "Her name's Cassie, and I think her husband is Ralph," Gosalyn explained as they approached the young couple and their three children. "She came by this morning to introduce herself."

The mother approached them and extended her hand in greeting, smiling warmly. "Hi, Gosalyn. Thanks again for watching the kids for us. I hope it's not too much trouble."

"No problem," Gosalyn replied. "This is my husband, Honker."

They shook hands. "I've heard a lot of nice things about you," Cassie said. "Here, let me introduce you to my family."

The children dutifully lined up to make their greetings, then ran off to the back yard with their father. Looking over to the car, Cassie signaled to the older couple standing there. "Mom! Uncle Noel! Come and meet our new neighbours!"

Honker looked up suddenly at the approaching couple and his jaw dropped in shock. Their physical characteristics were nowhere near a match, but something in their eyes and the smiles on their faces made their identities unmistakable.

"Faye? Noel?"

They looked at him in surprise. "I'm sorry," said Noel. "Have we met?"

Honker stared at him with a somewhat dazed expression, but didn't reply. Gosalyn elbowed him in the ribs. "You'll have to forgive Honker," she said, eyeing him suspiciously once more. "He's had a rough day at work, I think." She shook their hands. "It's nice to meet you. You know, my grandfather's name was Noel."

"Is that so?" he replied, eyeing Honker and looking perplexed. "Do we know you?"

"I'll feel terrible if we've met and I've forgotten you," Faye said to Honker.

"No," he said distantly after a moment, "but you both remind me of people I remember." Words could
not express what he was feeling. "I... admired them a great deal."

March 24, 1958, 7:00 p.m. Sasha Darling draped a blanket over Dr. Waddlemeyer. He'd been asleep at his desk for the last hour since she returned to the lab to pick up her things to go home. She just couldn't bring herself to wake him up, but didn't feel it was right to leave him sleeping there, so she decided to continue her work until he arose. Now she was getting worried. She had no idea what he had been doing while she was working in the archives, but he looked dusty and dishevelled, and in his right hand he clutched a piece of paper tightly. Whatever happened, it must have been quite taxing to make him sleep so soundly.

Finally he began to stir, and she approached his desk hesitantly. "Dr. Waddlemeyer?"

He groaned and put his hand to his head.

"Dr. Waddlemeyer?" she tried again.

With half-open eyes, he looked around the room and finally focused on Sasha. He looked confused. "Sasha?" he said, sitting up a little more.

"You fell asleep," she said, smiling timidly.

He looked around again, disoriented. "No," he said. "I don't think I was asleep."

"Well, I've been here for the past hour, and you haven't moved." She frowned in concern. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know." Still dazed, Noel rubbed his eyes, then noticed the paper he held in his hand. "What's this?" Sasha shrugged in response. Stiff from clenching his fist so tightly, Noel opened his hand slowly and flattened the paper to read it.

"What is it?" Sasha asked, wondering at his troubled expression.

"Did you write this?"

"No..."

He stared distantly as if trying to remember. "Something's happened..." he began, but trailed off. Looking at the paper again, he shook his head. "I don't know how I got this, but..."

"What is it?" she asked more insistently this time, her curiosity getting the better of her shyness.

Noel passed her the piece of paper, then sat back in his chair and held his head, trying desperately to remember.

Sasha paled. She looked back at her teacher in shock. "Where did you get this?" she asked.

Noel shook his head. "I can't remember."

"It's in my handwriting," she said nervously.

"I know."

She stared at it for a long time before speaking again. "Do you believe this?" she asked.

"I wish I could remember what happened..." he muttered to himself. "But how can I believe it?" he asked her. "It says Leon will return on September 24. That's six months from now."

"But what if it is true?" she asked anxiously. "What if you got this message as a warning?"

"It would have to be a message from the future."

"I know..." She looked at the paper once more. It seemed to strengthen her resolve. "You should believe this," she said with certainty.

He shook his head in confusion. "If only I knew what happened."

"But you don't know what happened to you. What if you did get a message from the future?"

"A message from you?"

"Dr. Waddlemeyer, anything is possible! Please," she implored. "I have a funny feeling about this. I think you should believe it... please."

September 24, 1958, 11:35 a.m. A bus pulled up to the stop in front of SHUSH headquarters in St. Canard. A short duck carrying an unusually large gun and wearing what looked like a toaster with antlers strapped to his head stepped down onto the sidewalk and glared menacingly at the building. Little did he know he was expected.

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