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Watermelon Snow
By : pronker
Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar
Views: 2672 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction using the Penguins of Madagascar characters owned by Dreamworks. -
Chapter List
- 1-Watermelon Snow
- 2-2/50
- 3-3/50
- 4-4/50
- 5-5/50
- 6-6/50
- 7-7/50
- 8-8/50
- 9-9/50
- 10-10/50
- 11-11/50
- 12-12/50
- 13-13/50
- 14-14/50
- 15-15/50
- 16-16/50
- 17-17/50
- 18-18/50
- 19-19/50
- 20-20/50
- 21-21/50
- 22-22/50
- 23-23/50
- 24-24/50
- 25-17-18/50 SLASH INTERLUDE BETWEEN CH. 17 AND 18. AU ON 'WATERMELON SNOW'
- 26-24A/50 SLASH VERSION OF CH. 24 FOR KICKS AND GIGGLES *** AU ***
- 27-25/50
- 28-26/50
- 29-27/50
- 30-28/50
- 31-29/50
- 32-30/50
- 33-31/50
- 34-32/50
- 35-33/50
- 36-34/50
- 37-35/50
- 38-36/50
- 39-37/50
- 40-38/50
- 41-39/50
- 42-40/50
- 43-41/50
- 44-42/50
- 45-43/50
- 46-44/50
- 47-45/50
- 48-46/50
- 49-47/50
- 50-48/50
- 51-49/50
- 52-50/51
- 53-51/51
Scooter Alvarez's punchy commentary on the last Rangers game that Skipper had cheered on to victory echoed in his mind. FORCE, POSITION, ANGLE drove the commander's attack into the box as he caromed the metaphorical puck straight through Kowalski's five hole to make goal.
"It wouldn't take Commodore Danger long to figure out where Blowhole is and what he's up to. He could sort out why the Viking homeschooling menace is real, too."
Kowalski's look was priceless as he iced the puck back to his opponent's half of the rink. "Skipper, Commodore Danger has the dedicated resources of his own section in the British Navy's Special Boat Service, not to mention faboo Agent Fiona ffolkes whom we've seen uncover rogue nations' secrets by uncovering her pneumatic charms to seduce their agents when she isn't seducing the Commodore --- "
"A-hem, Private is present, Kowalski! I won't let you destroy his innocence more than it already is after his 'special briefing.' "
"He can't hear me from the corner, and he's more adult than you realize." Kowalski eyed Private as he finished his penance. "He's really getting too old for a timeout, sir. Cousteau's Zodiac, cursing isn't that heinous."
"I'll be the judge of that." But Skipper raised his voice as he hadn't been able to lately without pain to address the young penguin who mumbled into a sympathetic earhole. "You can take your beak out of the corner now and join in strategizing, Private."
Private approached sheepishly. "I was just tellin' Faux Skippa that I would give lutfisk up for Lent straightaway, too."
There was muttering from this part of the peanut gallery from a certain Science Guy as well. "Plus there's the salient fact that Commodore Danger is a movie character and, you know, not real." Skipper shot a quelling look at his other troublesome squad member and Kowalski took the hint. "Just saying. Sir."
Forgiveness bloomed in the staticky grow light glittering from the 52 inch television set as the time for nocturnal noodle nudging began. Skipper seated himself on the floor away from his team and tossed the remote to the one soldier who hadn't tangled with him in the last hour. "Rico, find the news."
The commander began isometrics with his recovering right pinkie toe as his mind whirled. It was frustrating to see only the tip of the iceberg. Blowhole morphed a yak into a sasquatch to eliminate his arch nemesis and that was only part of an even worse unknown plan percolating in the dolphin's fevered brain. Skipper hoped the electronic hearth of a television set would lead to new directions and ideas for action from his think tank.
He counted down their remaining sojourn on Åland. Fourteen days to foil the scheme of what must be a diabolical design diametrically opposed to all that his team stood for. Was it a natural disaster like Bad Tidings? Was it a mecha monstrosity like the Chrome Claw? And how did the crazoid get established, get power so quickly after his Florida base blew up? How did he survive? Did he finagle Doris' sisterly attachment into letting him crash with her? Was another Kowalski and Doris run-in on the horizon and would he himself get roped into Kowalski's species-hopping mess? A headache threatened if heartburn didn't beat it to the punch. The glow left from the king's visit dimmed as Skipper plucked out a loose feather to twiddle.
Rico tuned directly to BBC News: Polite Version. Gavina Formes' concerned look marred her professionalism as she continued reporting on the elusive Antarctic worms in Arctic waters issue.
"The island of Skorpa in northern Norway joins Iceland and Svalbard by insisting that giant ice worms rise from the deep fjord to venture onto the deserted island. Across the fjord in the little town of Kvænangen, wary villagers train keen Scandinavian eyes accustomed to sharp contrasts between sea and sky to observe the happenings on Skorpa's deserted three square miles. As with Iceland and Svalbard, I am forced to report rumors and half-seen loops of vermiform shapes writhing in the waters of a Norway steeped in legends of krakens. I am on the verge of being impolite." After the initial jolt of mishearing 'Skorpa' as 'Skorca,' four little penguins listened to Gavina interview Sven once more.
Gavina's neat appearance belied her profound worry. "Sven, there's little chance that an iceberg will drift into Skorpa's fjord this time of year. Why do you think Plectus murrayi would venture into the fjord and onto Skorpa? If it isn't Plectus murrayi mutated beyond belief into an ocean dweller adept on land as well as icebergs, what could it be? We don't want to bring up the word kraken and panic people. My dear colleague, this is surpassing Polite News' territory. It might be time to hand off the story to the regular BBC. They don't mind panicking people." Gavina removed her spectacles to dab her eyes.
"Darling, you brought up kraken twice, I didn't. Let's not get dithery, shall we?" Sven's heavy features turned speculative as he rubbed his jowls. "In the past three days, I've reworked my hypothesis. Since sightings are no longer on icebergs and in the ocean alone, if Plectus murrayi was somehow, according to your idea," --- he broke his mood to shine a dazzling grin on Gavina across hundreds of miles --- "affected by sunspots or other phenomena to meld its DNA with the nemertean Linus longissimus, then we have a problem. I'm thinking a Greenpeace issue on the same level as dolphins snared in drift nets or narwhals' tusks sawn off for cosplay among misguided Lunacorn fans."
Private gasped. "I'd --- We'd never --- not even Bada or Bing would --- "
"Outrage later, Private. Your brothers know you'd never." Skipper pointed to Gavina. "Look, she's clutching her pearls! I've heard of it, but this is the first time seeing it!"
Gavina hyperventilated as she ran her nacreous necklace nervously through her fingers. She got herself back together in fifteen seconds. "Sven, Linus longissimus is the most common nemertean along the British coast. If one is blended with Plectus murrayi, then Plectus murrayi's ability to subsist on bacteria found everywhere combined with Linus longissimus' poisonous barb makes it a formidable specimen indeed. One might even exude the nemertean's toxic mucus." She quaked. "I could spot the monster whilst driving along the M4. Cor lummy!"
"If it's a giant beastie, get away fast, lovey." Sven steepled his large hands that were unafraid of hard work. "I'm surmising that it's a hybrid and the Linus attributes allow it to slither onto any environment while spearing the unwary. Add Plectus murrayi to the mix, and a hybrid could survive through anhydrobiosis."
Gavina remembered her audience. "Anhydrobiosis, cherished viewers, means that worms of this sort survive dessication as well as extreme cold in the parched valleys of Antarctica. They literally stop metabolic activity until conditions are ripe once more."
"Plectus murrayi can lose up to 99% of their body water content and survive. Tough little buggers, aren't they?"
"Please, Sven, language. We'll keep you viewers posted regarding noxious nematodes in any locale. Trust us." Gavina smiled weakly for her farewell. "On the fluffy side of polite news, we end with a montage showing the King of Sweden's visit with the sasquatch on Åland. See how playful she is on her tire swing! Watch how she joins in a staring contest with Princesses Estelle and Leonore! Gentlemen and ladies, do not be alarmed at her fur's rough appearance because she seems to be a lovable klutz like Bella Swan, I just adore that series, don't you? The sasquatch will continue to delight one and all until her departure for Copenhagen's Natural History Museum Centre for GeoGenetics. One moment, I'm getting an update." Gavina cupped her earpiece. "Oh, right. Look quick, here are some penguins, too. Goodbye and good manners from Polite News."
Rico found an old episode of Bob Ross to watch. Skipper allowed him ten minutes and then sliced his flipper across his throat. Rico only muted the set with a hopeful look back at Skipper, who nodded as he got to his feet. The team rose as one.
The alpha brain wave state brought on by watching TV proved beneficial. Kowalski produced his abacus and thought hard. "Triangulation is the key by tracking Blowhole's smartphone. I'll need a computer in the admin building for plotting purposes."
"Easy peasy to insert with our expertise, but how will you log on?" It was Skipper's job to bring up difficulties.
Kowalski waved his flipper airily. "Pishtosh, some lazy clerk always leaves a computer on overnight. When Sasquatch engages Blowhole --- that sounds gross --- at the usual time, we'll use the lightning rod as antenna. No, wait. It's only a one story building with no cell tower and the tree line might block the signal. I'm not really sure. Even if he's at least 24 miles away on the Swedish mainland, the land here is flat enough with only low hills, but the trees --- no, on second thought, we need a lofted antenna." He played with his abacus and frowned. "If we were in Central Park Zoo, we could ask Pinkie to take it up."
"Now, there's an outstanding mission candidate." Skipper rolled his eyes. "Nope, Kitka both would and could do it. You've all seen her bravery. I've experienced her strength and suppleness and strength and endurance and power and daring up close and extremely personal --- "
Kowalski erased something on his abacus. "You said strength twice."
" --- Kowalski, be nice, memory glitch, okay? --- and before you know it, viola, we'd have a liftoff with the antenna. Pinkie might do it for us or she might doublecross us like she did switching the fishcakes." He scowled. "She's shortsighted."
Private put his flippers on his hips. "Who's Viola, then? Another of your girlfriends?"
Rico slapped his knees laughing as Kowalski chuckled and said, "Ah, Private, I think Skipper means --- "
Skipper had had enough of this blah blahity blah. "I've had enough of this blah blahity blah. If we were in New York, Shelly can't fly and Pinkie is too flighty to trust, yes Private I realize what I said so stifle. Kitka would be the right a rooney choice of bird, hmmmm? Am I right? I am. I'm deliberately leaving out Frankie because it's a falcon for the win. So where can we get a Kitka up here in Swedish and/or Finnish territory?" He left out the part where he'd tried to rendezvous with Kitka outside both Central Park and the zoo after he broke up with her and found out she'd moved her nest. She'd help him --- she would. There was always a certain tie with any ex with benefits and he'd persuade her in the way she liked --- meh. The point was moot anyhow.
Rico advanced with Faux Skipper held tenderly in his flippers. "Blooon." He removed the Snuggie from its form and tossed the garment back into the corner. He upended Faux Skipper and puffed on his valve to plump him out after his use as a soccer ball. Skipper turned away swiftly to face the others.
"See? See? This is what I'm talking about. Rico makes his own rules, thinks outside the box, and I'll come up with a third thing later. Good job, Rico. We won't need a Frankie, Kitka, or Pinkie. I could see Pinkie biting and popping me just to be mean."
"Faux You, sir."
"What? Those are court martial words, soldier!"
"Faux You." Kowalski waited a beat as Rico hefted the namesake dolly.
"Oh. That's what you meant."
Kowalski pulled his inspiration out of the stratosphere. "We'll raid the zoo's balloon stand for helium to make it stay aloft. Since March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, the wind likely will be steady. If it's not, the helium will lift Faux You despite everything." He was already onto the next problem. "We'll need wire." Skipper could see the lightbulb go on behind his lieutenant's eyes. "The lightning rod! Copper wire runs down the building into the ground. We'll use it and replace it that same night."
"Triangulation means three points so we're set, right? Faux Me antenna, Sasquatch's TV receiver and Blowhole's --- what if he doesn't have a smartphone? "
Kowalski folded his flippers over his chest. "Honestly, do you think Blowhole would go one second without a fancy iPhone?"
"Why so sure?"
"The name, duh! iPhone. As in me first. He's the most selfish dolphin I know. He's not kind or generous like Doris. How they came from the same parents is beyond me."
It struck home one more time that Doris was never far from Kowalski's thoughts. "Good work and I stand corrected, jefe."
Private was happy. "We won't need a Kitka, yayyy!" Some petulance crept in. "So we got a teensy-weensy mention on Polite News. La dee dah."
Kowalski spun a bead on his abacus. "It would be nice to think that our covert efforts will be archived for posterity, but if we do our job right, humans will never know or care."
"Wot? Do you think the ice worm story is any better than our overt visit with the king? Worms are bleedin' trivial, if you ask me."
Skipper made an indescribable sound as he placed both flippers to his temples.
''Catch him, quick!" Private braced his commander from one side and Kowalski from the other.
"Whoa, room tilt. A-Arctic ice worms?" Skipper's sharp gaze clouded over. He shrugged off his support as his voice rose. "I saw small ice worms on the Kastelholm rooftop! They distracted me and Sasquatch won! But the documentary I watched when we first got here said that ice worms aren't on Åland or anywhere near here -- they're in Alaska! And Washington The State! And maybe Nunavut! But not around here! I couldn't remember until now." He slapped himself with both flippers, hard, and then bent double, massaging his midsection.
Private couldn't contain himself. "I knew it! She wouldn't have got the upper hand if you weren't distracted. Nobody ever could!"
"You go on thinking that, young Private. The team needs you to." Skipper gave the young penguin a look filled with so many things that Kowalski and Rico couldn't keep track. He swayed on his feet.
Rico wanted to forget the sight of his commander blaming himself for something that wasn't his fault. "D'nt kaboom! self, 'Kippaaah." He horked up a gold and blue mini-beanbag chair which Skipper sank into. Rico grinned in relief and then his eyes got round as dismay rumpled his face. He dropped to the floor at his leader's feet. "'Kippaaaah."
"I'll be okay in a minute, don't fuss and whatnot, I hate it --- "
Rico took a deep breath and spoke slowly. "'Kippaaaah. Blowhole. Mentioned. Wrms." He ducked his head. "Frgot. Sowwy."
"Another piece of the puzzle. What the hell can he be up to?"
Private wrung his flippers. "You said somethin' about worms when you were dyin', Skippa, and I didn't bring it up it later because it was just too awful --- I-I couldn't talk about it --- "
Skipper looked somewhere between exasperated and puzzled. "How did I know then that I wasn't dying? I never died before, Private." The mini-beanbag chair crackled as he smacked one flipper into the other. "So we can speculate that Blowhole has something to do with the ice worms that I saw and the ones Gavina and Sven report on. Hoo brother. We know what he might be doing but not why."
The three penguins plopped down to form a circle with their leader as if around a real fiery hearth instead of an electronic one. "Tomorrow night Operation: Plug A Blowhole begins, men. We've been coasting up until now."
IOIOIOIOIO
TBC
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