It was the middle of summer on Puckworld, and one of the few days of the year when the ice-covered planet received some semblance of warmth. At least, after the long, cold spring and even colder winter before, summer sure felt warm. The morning had not quite begun and all was quiet on the small suburban street were our story begins. Each house was dark, the tiny sun was just up but still covered by the taller buildings of the actual city, which had already begun its daily activity, loath as city-dwellers were to waste a single second of daylight. Even for its climate-conditioned inhabitants, no one on Puckworld wanted to be outdoors after dark when the temperatures dropped from frigid to positively deadly, even in warmer summers like these.

The quiet remained for several moments after the sun appeared over the skyscrapers in the distance. Then the stillness was broken by a single movement; that of a tall brown-haired youth of around 23 or 24. He immerged from one house carrying a well-used duffle bag and a pair of white hockey skates over one shoulder, and immediately proceeded to the next house on the right from where he was standing. The door was open before he got there, and in the doorway stood an equally tall, equally youthful girl carrying a sports bag of her own.

“Morning, C.T.,” she greeted him.

“Good morning, Winger,” he replied, grinning. “Think you’re ready to handle me today?”

“Please,” Wildwing said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “You haven’t been able to get a puck past me for the last three days, what makes you think today’s going to be any different?”

Canard laughed. “Your overconfidence will be your undoing,” he said in an uncanny imitation of one of Wildwing’s least favorite high-school teachers. “Hey, where’s your brother?”

“Sleeping,” Wildwing replied. “He and dad were up half the night doing... ‘something’, they said. As though I can’t guess what.”

Canard snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. Come on over to my house for a moment, I have something for you.”

“Canard, I told you...”

“Yeah, yeah, you told me not to bother. Well, too bad; I bothered. Now are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Wait up.”

Canard picked up the small parcel he’d wrapped the night before and handed it to Wildwing. “Happy Birthday.”

Wildwing took his present and stared at it a second. “Thanks,” she said quietly. You didn’t have to, you know.”

“Your best friend doesn’t turn 23 every day,” he replied. “Go on, open it. That’s what it’s for.”

Wildwing obligingly tore open the wrapping and gasped in delight. Inside was a small framed collage of the greatest moments of their greatest hockey games, centered around a picture of Wildwing and Canard together in their hockey uniforms. It was the shot of the entire team cropped to include only them. The base of the frame was engraved with a single world: Always. She looked up at him, unable to conceal the shine of tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, touched.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. “You’re welcome,” he replied after a moment. “Come on, let’s get to practice.”

Shoot—block, shoot—block, shoot—block. For the first time in a while, Canard was sweating as he played. He hadn’t been able to get a single puck past Wildwing for days now. Man, he looks tired, Wildwing thought. If it didn’t go against everything he’s taught me, I might actually let him win.

Shoot—block. “Hey, Canard. You look like you’re ready for a break.”

“No way,” he said. Shoot—block. “I’m just getting started.”

Shoot—block. “You mean you’re a glutton for punishment,” Wildwing teased.

Canard sent a burning slap shot towards the young goalie. Block. Canard shook his head. “Why are you so good?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Shoot—block. “You taught me everything I know about hockey.” Shoot—block. “Canard, you look like you’re about to pass out. Why don’t we take a breather?”

Shoot—block. Shoot—block. Shoot—block. “No,” was all he said as he started hitting his pucks faster at his friend.

Wildwing was growing concerned. “Come on, Canard, let’s chill for a while. You look like death warmed over.”

Shoot—block. “I’m gonna get a goal out of you if it kills me.”

Wildwing removed her mask and grinned. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Canard panted.

Wing’s grin grew even wider, and a teasing laugh punctuated her words. “Because you just ran out of pucks.”

Canard looked down at the ice. Wildwing had deflected all his hockey pucks neatly to the far end of the alley. He glared back at his friend. “You did that on purpose,” he accused.

Wildwing skated up and put an arm around Canard’s shoulders. “As much as I hate pulling rank, I am the birthday girl. Why don’t you take a break, huh? For me?”

With a laugh, Canard consented. The two friends gathered the pucks together into Canard’s bag and delivered them and Canard’s other equipment back to his house. Then the stopped at Wildwing’s to drop off her hockey gear.

Almost as soon as she opened the door, Wildwing noticed the sounds and smells of her mother at work in the kitchen. She rolled her eyes. It was just a birthday, for crying out loud. Her parents made a fuss over the silliest things. Silently, she set her equipment bag down by the wall and closed the door, making a “shhh” gesture to her companion. “Mom’s at work on her ‘surprise’,” she said when they were in no danger of being heard. “Let’s give them another hour or so, they’re probably not expecting us for a while.”

“We did finish early,” Canard said. “Hey, I think there’s a new display at the sporting goods shop. You want to check it out.”

“That’s quite a walk,” Wildwing said.

“Are you not up to it?”

“I was wondering if you were up to it.”

Canard laughed. “I’m up to anything you can dish out.”

“Well, okay, then.”

Nosedive threw his covers off at the sound of his alarm clock, positively giddy with excitement. Any other day he would have knocked the obnoxious contraption off the stand and sent it crashing to the floor, then sank under the covers for another half hour at least, but this was hardly any old day. Today was Wildwing’s 23rd birthday.

His heart sank slightly when he saw that Wing was already up and gone, but he knew she wouldn’t be gone long. Usually he attended Wildwing’s morning and evening practices with Canard, but that was simply because he had no one else to keep him company. The silent concentration with which they practiced usually compelled him to chatter endlessly... much to the annoyance of his sister and her friend. Let the two of them have some time alone, it wasn’t as though they were going to get the chance once the party started.

Nosedive threw his clothes on in half his record time and pounded down the stairs as quickly as he could. His mother was already in the kitchen. “Good morning, Mom,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

“Good morning, son,” she replied, smiling. “Aren’t you up early? It’s not even midday.”

“Very funny,” he said. “Is Wing back yet? I noticed her hockey gear by the door.”

“I didn’t hear the door open,” Mom said.

“Well, that doesn’t mean anything,” Nosedive replied. “You know Wildwing makes less noise than a snowfall. Unlike me.”

“True. Dear, as long as you’re up, why don’t you help me here?”

“Sure, Mom,” Nosedive said agreeably. Again, any other day he would have argued. But not today, no sir. He set about doing whatever his mother told him, stifling yawns every now and then that reminded him how unused he was to being up so early. His mother had the same minor affliction.

Not surprising. None of the Flashblades on his father’s side, or the McDrakes on his mother’s, liked getting up. The only one with enough discipline to actually rise early every morning was Wildwing.

Nosedive glanced out the kitchen window. Summer skies sure were nice on Puckworld, with the clear silver blue reflected on every ice-covered surface. “I wonder where Wildwing is,” he mused aloud.

“Come on,” said his mother. “Let’s get this job finished before she gets back.”

Nosedive obligingly returned to work. “Hey, do I get all these goodies when I turn 23?” he asked.

“I’ll be surprised if you live to see 17, O Incurable Daredevil.”

Nosedive blushed slightly and grinned, his usual reaction to his parents’ or sister’s teasing. “Hey, I’m not that bad, am I?”

“You’re worse,” she affirmed.

Nosedive laughed, unwilling to retaliate. The family had already been planning this day for weeks and having fun was all he had room for on his schedule.

“Nosedive, could you set the table for breakfast, please?” Mom asked.

That made Nosedive groan. He hated setting the table, and Mom knew it. But he did it, and he did it gladly, knowing as soon as breakfast was over he would get to help with the fun stuff like decorations and gifts. He had his own gift for Wildwing that he wanted to give to her when they finally had some time to themselves.

“When’s Wildwing coming back?” he called, knowing full well what the answer would be. He just wanted to ask the question out loud.

“Haven’t a clue,” Mom answered in her I’m-busy-can’t-it-wait tone of voice.

Nosedive finished setting the table. “Anything else you need, Mom?”

“No. Why don’t you wake up your father?”

“Because his father’s already awake,” said a deep voice from the doorway. Steven Flashblade crossed the kitchen to his wife and kissed her honey-gold hair. “I’m going to go pick up a few last-minute things. I’ll be back in an hour, honey.” Then he turned to his son. “You be good, sport.”

“Sure, dad,” Nosedive replied.

Wildwing fingered a custom-fit goalie mask and helmet and sighed. “Boy, I’d love to have one of these,” she said, thinking of that green-and-white, old-fashioned hand-me-down from her father she had to use.

Canard looked over Wing’s shoulder. “Not a bad choice,” he remarked. “But come over here.”

Wildwing followed her friend to a rack of hockey sticks. Canard passed one exceptionally expensive stick to her. “Check that out.”

Wildwing nodded. “Nice.” She laid the blade on the floor. “The lie’s a little off for your height, though.”

“Really?” Canard took the stick back and tested it himself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I couldn’t afford it anyway.” He put the stick back and went to look at the skates. He picked up a shiny black pair he’d had his eyes on for a while. They were a perfect fit, but for the price they were asking he could’ve bought a thousand hockey pucks.

Wildwing watched him from the goalie mask display. She knew he wanted those skates, and she also knew his birthday was coming up. There was a box in her closet that held her entire earnings of the past two months—and she almost had enough…

Canard put the skates down and started to turn. Wildwing quickly turned back to the masks and pretended she hadn’t seen him. Instead, she picked up a helmet with a cage-style mask attached. Even though they were safer and more durable, Wildwing didn’t really like cage masks for the simple reason that they obstructed her view and were extremely heavy. She put the helmet down and turned to face Canard.

“Well, I’m done,” she said. “I hear there’s a ‘surprise party’ being planned at the Flashblade residence. What say we go crash it?”

Canard laughed. “Fine; sounds like fun.”

Michelle and Nosedive wrestled playfully on the floor. Michelle picked up a pillow and fended off her brother as she ran behind a couch.

“Girl, you are one lethal four-year-old,” he said with a grin.

“I’m almost five!” Michelle corrected. “I’ll be five in three days!”

“Okay, okay. So you’re a lethal almost-five-year-old. I‘m still gonna catch you.” Nosedive got up and chased Michelle around the couch a few times before she ran into the den. But not before she threw the pillow at him.

Nosedive picked up the pillow and tiptoed into the den. He could hear Michelle stifling her girlish giggle and see the hem of her pink dress sticking out from behind a chair.

“Oh, dear,” he said with exaggerated puzzlement. “I can’t seem to find Michelle. Where on Puckworld could she be?” He treaded softly behind the chair. Sneaking up on Michelle, he said, “Ahhh- HA!” and grabbed her in his arms.

Michelle squealed and squirmed with laughter. Nosedive gave her some maneuvering room as they took the battle back to the floor. He gave way for her, letting her win as he always did.

But just as she pinned him to the carpet, the floor shook. Nosedive’s eyes widened with shock and fear. “That wasn’t you, was it?” It wasn’t a question, but a dreadful acknowledgement. The floor shook again.

Nosedive put his sister on the floor and told her to stay put. Then he went to the kitchen window to see what the trouble was. His mother was already there, standing stock still, her face as white as ice. When he saw why, Nosedive’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Oh… my… gosh!” he exclaimed breathlessly.

“What the heck is that?” Wildwing exclaimed.

Large red ships touched down throughout the streets. When they landed, they distorted into huge walkers and began blasting everything in sight.

Canard gulped. He’d seen pictures of these in textbooks, but he never thought he’d see them in real life. He grabbed Wildwing’s arm and yanked her out of the path of a falling building. “Run!” he shouted. “They’re Saurian warships!”

Wildwing and Canard ran through alleys and ducked behind shops, but the monitor towers were everywhere. Nowhere could they find a place to hide from the deadly armada. They reached DuCaine Square, where a statue of the great hero had been erected.

“I thought the Saurians were trapped in another dimension!” said Wildwing, out of breath.

“I thought so, too. At least, that’s what your brother told us!”

Wildwing’s eyes grew wide. “Nosedive! Canard, I’ve got to find him!” She took off in the direction of her house... where two more monitor towers were waiting.

“Wildwing! No!” she heard Canard call behind her. But she didn’t stop... until she heard a large explosion and Canard cry out. She whirled around.

“Canard!” Wildwing searched frantically for her best friend. He was gone. All that remained where he had stood were destroyed fragments of the statue of Drake DuCaine.

A sob of grief welled up in her throat, but she forced it down and ran to find her brother. She took the shortcut through the alley that her mother didn’t like her to use. Right now, though, she was in danger no matter where she was.

When she neared her home, she began to call out, “Nosedive! Michelle!”

The only reply she received were the distraught cries of Puckworlders whose families and homes had been destroyed.

“Mom!! Dad! Where are you?!” Wildwing screamed desperately. Nothing. She screamed louder as she rounded the last corner...

And froze in her tracks. The entire street had been wiped out. Demolished. Destroyed.

Wildwing sank to her knees, unable to move or speak or even think. Finally, she let out an incomprehensible scream of despair and grief. Then she covered her face with her hands and, for the first time in her life, began to cry.

“I’m scared, Dive,” said little Michelle. Nosedive hugged her close. They had just been thrown into a dank cell, wearing only the thin red garments assigned to them.

“It’s okay, Michelle,” he said, with more cheer then he felt. The tiny girl shook violently from the cold. Nosedive removed his threadbare vest and wrapped it around his tiny sister. He knew it would do next to nothing for her, but at least he didn’t feel so darn helpless.

In a few moments, she was asleep in his arms. He let his front of bravery go.

Oh, man, he thought through his tears. What am I gonna do, now? I can’t take care of Michelle all by myself. He sighed and slumped against the wall, surrendering to the insufferable memories that were tearing his mind apart.

One of the first shots the Saurians had taken had blown out the front wall of their house. Nosedive had had neither the strength nor the forethought to react, but his mother had. She’d taken the boy by his shoulders and pushed him back and down to the floor, shielding him from the falling fire and debris with her own body. Then the hunter drones had burst in to what was left of the house, snatched Michelle, yanked Nosedive to his feet, and hauled them both away. Nosedive had gotten only a fleeting glance at his mother, but it was enough to tell him that she was dead. After that, everything had gone fairly dark. His heart ached for his family, most especially his older sister.

Wildwing! Girl, I wish you were here now. What had happened to her? He knew she had probably gone off to hang out with Canard. Someone from Nosedive’s old homeroom class said he’d seen Canard ducking into a sewer as the statue of DuCaine was destroyed. But what had happened to Wildwing?

If I ever see Wildwing again... heck, I’ll even hug the girl! I miss her so much. The tears came faster, and the sleeping Michelle moaned in his lap. What in Puckworld am I gonna do?

At that moment, Wildwing was wondering much the same thing. She was thinking of her home, her family, and her best friend.

Canard. He’d pulled her out of the path of a destroyed shop and kept her from being crushed to death. She owed her life to him. She remembered the agonizing grief she’d felt when she’d lost sight of him. He must have been so worried about her, he hadn’t seen the statue crumbling towards him. And even if he had survived, the chance was small that she’d ever see him again.

Nosedive. She’d left him at home, and now he was gone. Snatched from her the very moment she hadn’t been there to protect him. It just wasn’t fair.

Wildwing began to cry softly. She was crammed in a cell with about seven other inmates, four of them small children. They all wore red threadbare outfits that seemed to produce more cold then Puckworld’s weather. Two of the children were ill, and were coughing pitifully as they lay on the floor by their mother. Wildwing went over and spread her thin blanket over them. The mother smiled gratefully through her tears, the best she could do by way of a “thank you”.

Wildwing went back to her murky corner and curled up by herself. She thought of all she had lost, all the planet had lost, and the grayness of her world’s future. After an hour in the darkness of her own thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.

However long she slept, she was awakened by a loud metallic bang that nearly made her jump out of her skin. The rusty door of the cell had been forced open, and another occupant--a tall, brown-haired male--was thrown to the cold, dirty floor.

The man stood up, and Wildwing got a good look at his face. She was overjoyed to see who it was, but to tired to react. She was also filled with a malicious pride; evidently her father had given the Saurians trouble.

Steven Flashblade saw his daughter immediately. She forced her half-frozen face into a smile. “Hi, Dad,” she said in a raw, painful voice.

Dad sat down next to Wildwing and put his arms protectively around her. She laid her head on her father’s chest and listened to his heart pounding. He’d never seemed warmer than at that moment. He said nothing, merely held her and softly stroked her tangled, dirty hair. Presently, he reached into his shirt pocket and came up with the birthday present Canard had given her.

“I found this on our street,” he said quietly.

Wildwing took it and held it close as though it were alive. Had she really only received it that morning? She felt as though she were holding a relic from a life that had ended a millennium ago. She fingered the chipped frame delicately, and again read the word “Always” engraved on its base. Then she focused on the picture that her eyes had been studiously avoiding; that of Canard with his arm around Wildwing’s shoulders, looking for all the world as she had seen him less than half a day ago.

“Where is he?” Dad asked quietly.

Tears burned their way from Wildwing’s eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know where Mom or Nosedive or Michelle are, either. I’m sorry.”

Dad’s comforting embrace grew even tighter, if possible. “No, no, sweetie. I’m sorry. I know how much you loved them. I’d give anything to take away the pain you’re feeling.” He continued stroking her hair until she fell asleep in his arms, then he let his own tears fall.

The citizens of Puckworld hadn’t known what hit ‘em until it was too late. In the space of three hours, the last surviving Saurian overlords had the defenseless planet at bay.

The natives were put to work in mines and factories. At the end of the day, they were thrown into cold, damp cells where they were given six hours to sleep and eat before going back to work. Even the youngest children were forced to work until they dropped. Work, work, work. That was all the Puckworlders were allowed to do. The Saurian guards stood by to blast anyone who dared resist. Of course, there were stories about a band of rebels known as the Resistance. The captured Puckworlders needed those stories to survive.

Every day Nosedive worked alongside other boys and girls his own age. Once or twice he ran into a classmate or an old girlfriend, but he didn’t stop, nor did he dare do more than make eye contact. That would only get them both killed.

Puckworlders who lived within the boundaries of large cities were put to work in factories, while those who lived on outskirts, in border towns, or at remote military posts were forced to slave away in mines. Neither option was easier or less dangerous than the other.

The death toll continued to increase, especially among small children. Poor Michelle’s fifth birthday had been the most miserable one of her short life. Every night, Nosedive took his little sister in his arms and let her cry herself to sleep, wrapped in his vest and frayed blanket. Then he’d cry himself, wondering what had happened to Wildwing. Wondering if she’d survived.

Oh man, I hope not. I don’t want her to be hurting as bad as Michelle and me. I hope she’s with Drake, now. And Mom. Still, it hurt to think that his loving, protective older sister might have lost her life to the Saurian Overlords.

I’ll annihilate them for this, he thought, slipping momentarily back into his old angry self. I’ll get them back for every hurt family on this planet!

His arms tightened around Michelle, holding her close. Once again he swore he’d protect the little girl at all costs. He wouldn’t lose both sisters without a fight.

The door burst open, and he was dragged out for another 18-hour-day in the mines. Little Michelle was sent out after him. Nosedive didn’t want his little sister in the mines; hundreds of small children died there from accidents or exhaustion every day. But there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Despite Puckworld’s freezing temperatures this time of year, Nosedive still managed to break into a sweat from the work. His arms ached, and he swore under his breath when the crystals cut his hands. Within three hours of work he was ready to collapse. Old and new wounds on his hands and arms stung from the cold, and his knees were about to go out from under him. Even the smallest of the rare belirium was enough to power a whole fleet of Aerowings, but the crystals were hard to find, and even harder to get out of the rock walls. And the Saurian ships needed a lot because of their extreme fuel-inefficiency. But he continued working, driven by the knowledge that the moment he stopped he’d be blasted out of existence by the ever-present Saurian guard-drone. If he didn’t have Michelle to protect, he would have let them blast away.

Off to the side he heard a crash and a groan. This was nothing new, he’d heard it several times a day since the take-over. A laser blast, and maybe the unfortunate miner’s death cry would follow it. The terrors had become routine. But he looked up anyway.

And nearly dropped the belirium crystal he was holding. “Wildwing?!”

She was too far away to hear him. Her face was dirty, her hair hung limp and dark over her shoulders and over her eyes, but it was definitely her. A rather large pile of loose stones had collapsed over her legs, half-burying her. After only a second, she stopped struggling to get free. Even across the fifteen or so yards that separated them, he could see that her blue eyes had lost the spark that Nosedive remembered, and he realized her heart had lost its will to go on.

He could hardly blame her for that.

Nosedive turned away, his own heart full of grief. There was nothing he could do for her from where he was... except let the enemy end her pain for her.

He shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see what would inevitably happen next.

Wildwing’s arms and back ached, the ice and frigid air cut into her skin. She bled from at least a dozen different scrapes and cuts. She knew she wasn’t going to last long down here; what difference did it make if she bled to death, collapsed from overwork or was hit by a Saurian laser-blast? The latter was infinitely quicker and relatively painless by comparison. She had only to wait until a hunter drone turned her way...

She felt the warm, strong hands of her father on her shoulders, and heard his pleading voice. “Come on, honey. Get up before they see you.”

“I can’t,” she murmured helplessly. “I’m sorry, I just can’t. Go on, Dad. Leave me here.”

Steven knelt stubbornly beside his daughter. “I’m not leaving you. Come on, you can’t give up now. Here, let me help you up.”

“I’ve had it, Dad,” she said, pushing him away. “I can’t handle the pain anymore. I just want it over with. Please, just leave me.”

“No,” Steven whispered fiercely. “I’m not losing you again.”

Wildwing looked up into her father’s eyes and saw the love and determination there; the one thing that kept him going was his devotion to his family. A small smile crossed her lips; what was good enough for her father was good enough for her. She started to get up, with Steven’s help.

Too late. Before she was off her knees, she heard a hunter drone powering up for its blast. She looked up, frozen in terror, realizing that she was about to die in her father’s arms.

“No!” Steven cried desperately. Just as the drone fired, he leapt in the path of the blast, taking the deadly shot in his chest. He collapsed next to his daughter.

Wildwing gasped and threw her arms around him. He looked at her, his brown eyes wide and unfocused. For a moment she thought he was dead. Then his lips moved and he whispered, “I love you...” Then he was gone.

Wildwing heard the hunter drone charging up for the next blast. She glanced up, terror drained out of her and was replaced by grief and weariness.

Suddenly, she felt herself being yanked to her feet. Someone was gripping her hand ferociously and pulling her to safety. She sprinted to shelter, guided by an unknown rescuer, blinded by shock and exertion.

She took a few seconds to collect herself, her savior gripped her by the shoulders. She knew that touch too well to doubt who it was. “Canard...” she whispered. She looked up into his black eyes and saw that he was matching her tear for tear. She felt him throw his arms around her and pull her close. She wept inconsolably on his shoulder. “Where were you?” she sobbed quietly.

“I escaped,” he whispered. “Just barely. I found my brother Rick, we’re starting a resistance together.”

“My father...”

“I know,” he said, still holding her in his arms. “I know.” Then he pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Oh, Wildwing,” he whispered, tears flowing freely down his face. “You can’t know how much pain I’ve been in these past few weeks. I thought you were dead, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Wildwing felt drained from loss. “I know the feeling. I was sure I’d lost you forever. I thought I’d lost everything; I was ready to give up.”

“So was I.” Canard took each of Wildwing’s hands in his. “Listen to me. I don’t if you’ve realized it yet, but your brother’s alive.”

Wildwing looked up at Canard, her blue eyes wide and round. “Nosedive’s alive!?” she whispered, the new hope in her heart shocking away all her grief and despair.

“Yes,” Canard said, looking a little sad. “I made certain for your sake. Once I found out you were alive, I knew you’d want to know what happened to him. I also knew that if he was alive you would want to find him and take care of him.” He hugged her close again. “I can’t get you both out today. As soon as you’ve caught your breath, I’ll get you safely to him.”

Wildwing returned her friend’s embrace with renewed strength. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I wish I could go with you, but someone has to take care of Nosedive.”

“I know,” Canard said. “He’s one lucky kid.” Canard looked down and met his friend’s eyes. “I will come back for you, though. The second I can, I promise I’ll come back and get you out of here.”

“I know,” Wildwing said. “You wouldn’t expect any less of me. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright now. You’ve given me a reason to keep going. The best there is, in fact.”

Canard smiled. “You wouldn’t expect any less of me,” he repeated.

“Nosedive.”

Nosedive turned, his tired eyes wide with astonishment. “Wing!” he cried out in a whisper. “You’re alive! I thought for sure they got you.”

Wildwing shook her head. “Dad took the shot meant for me,” she whispered sadly, working shoulder to shoulder with her brother.

Nosedive sighed. “So they got Dad too, huh?”

Wildwing heard the unspoken pain in her brother’s voice and knew instantly that they had been orphaned in the attack. “What happened to Mom?” Wildwing asked softly.

“The building collapsed on us; she died protecting me.”

Wildwing’s throat closed. “And Michelle?”

“Dead,” replied Nosedive, his voice flat. “A few moments ago... she fell down and toppled a cart. I wasn’t protecting her as well as I should have been. I should have made sure she was beside me the whole time, but I just let them drag her off.”

Wildwing turned and looked into her brother’s sad blue eyes. “They only would have shot you both if you’d tried fighting them. You did everything you could, and I’m proud of you.”

Nosedive shrugged as if this were little consequence now.

“Listen,” Wildwing continued. “I saw Canard, he’s the one who brought me to you. He and his brother Rick are gathering the other survivors together to start a resistance. He’s going to come back for us when he can. We have to hold on until then.”

“Why?” Nosedive asked darkly.

Wildwing took Nosedive’s hand. “Dive, we’re the only Flashblades left. This is a darn proud family, I am not going to let it end this way.”

Nosedive glanced at his sister. He started to smile. “I guess I can hold on,” he said, “if I’ve got you.”

“You’ll always have me, little brother,” she told him. “That’s a promise.”