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Undertow	By : pronker Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar Views: 11341 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction set in Dreamworks' Penguins of Madagascar franchise. I do not own its characters, basic premise or settings.

Chapter List
- 1-1/?
- 2-2/?
- 3-3/?
- 4-4/?
- 5-5/?
- 6-6/?
- 7-7/?
- 8-8/?
- 9-9/?
- 10-10/?
- 11-11/?
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- 13-13/?
- 14-14/?
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- 16-16/?
- 17-17/?
- 18-18/?
- 19-19/?
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- 21-21/?
- 22-22/?
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- 94-94/?
- 95-95/?
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- 102-102/?
- 103-103/?
- 104-104/?
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- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
- 112-112/112
- 69
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- 71
In a disturbing dream Sunday night, Kowalski answered no way José to Rico's suggestion that perhaps the two of them could gain a viable egg by convincing Skipper to blend Skipper's DNA with Rico's. Even in his dream, he had channeled Doctor Phil's winners deal with the truth and so he admitted the truth to himself: he wanted to own Rico as much as any penguin could own another and sharing Rico's DNA with Skipper's resulting in a baby that he, Kowalski, would be expected to raise proved beyond his strength. He had awakened to a wave of profound humility and a lingering vision of Rico's puzzled face.
Kowalski experienced another wave, that of nostalgia, as he regarded Private relaxing nearby. The young penguin lounging around HQ had already lived more life than he had and Kowalski was the older penguin, for Asimov's sake. Touring the caverns, becoming gravid, about to lay an egg: Private's experiences were a scientist's fondest dream. He brought himself to reality with a spit-take.
"I counsel a waiting option, Skipper, since today is Private's Due Date Monday, which is an important day for the whole team, you must agree - "
"Stop acting like I need a handler, Kowalski." Following the weekend the team had just experienced, the topic of vengeance on a Monday morning strategy meeting came as no surprise. Skipper wiped his face free of tea, grimacing at its status of non-coffee or maybe it was simply Monday morning grumpiness. Kowalski didn't and couldn't know which. "Compadre, I'm gonna get that turd with wings that flies around Central Park before I lose my edge - "
"Sir, you can't mean Momma Duck - "
Skipper snorted. "Of course not! She's a saint with saintlike patience to parent four ducklings - "
"That we know of."
Kowalski scribbled observations on his mental clipboard about Skipper's newest facial expression. "Yeah. Right. And she lost the fifth duckling of this batch to the vicious bastard Snakehead Trout. Yeah. Her baby died. Yeah. You just had to send me there, didn't you."
"It's my job as your second, sir."
"All, all right. Apology blah blah to my second blah. Let's move on to Frankie, the turd with wings."
From their bunk where Private reclined, looking at a Lunacorn knitting magazine, arose a tiny laannnggg-guage.
"Creep with wings named Frankie," amended Skipper, "he messed with me on a holiday yet and I want payback. There's no weapon at Frances Alberta's vanity museum. It's all non-op retro rocket kiddie rides, no hrmmmmzingzingzingdrmmamamuh of a rising power hum or smell of cordite or stink of rocket fuel or anything that I would recognize the minute I smelled it. She may have constructed bio-mechanical versions of zoo animals back in the day, but if there's anything I've learned counseling troops, it's when someone has lost their edge. She has. I don't need Phil internetting her actions to know that her waving the double bladed axe at us was some symbolic voodoo gobbletygook philosophical - thing. And you know how I feel about philosophy."
Kowalski felt compelled to slap skid chains on this juggernaut. "Sir, we haven't intel on where Frankie roosts in Central Park and Black Friday is not technically a hol- "
"Great! Let's peel out! Rico, stay near the horn and let me know the minute anything starts with Private. Kowalski, prep the car for off road maneuvers because speed to the park and back is numero uno priority - "
Nowadays the slightest word from Private made Skipper jumpy. "Skippa."
"Is something starting? How do you feel? Can I do anything for y- "
Private dogeared the page of the magazine before placing it upside down on his tummy. He wafted an airy goodbye gesture. "I only wanted to wish you good luck."
"Thanks. Well, 'bye for now, babe. Rico, hold down the fort."
"Aye."
The hatch cover clanged as Skipper and Kowalski fled the Lair of Tension (TM).
IOIOIOIOIO
"Rico, I couldn't stand bein' around Skippa a minute longer. Don't tell him I said that."
Rico accompanied his grunt with a shrug.
Did the hormones of egglaying affect females every day like this? Private admired them all the more; if only he weren't floundering in depression the breathing sequence that Shelly suggested right before she farewelled them would be easier to practice. He thought of the last Lunacorns show starring Princess Self-Respectra and felt a little better. She could embrace change and not simply endure it. She said so herself. "So, Rico, how are you gettin' along with Marlene?"
"'Eeniedrawnus."
"Fantastic! Can I see it?"
"Dunsoon. Notnao. 'EeniegoanwaybebakFriafternex."
Private studied his magazine. "She is? Oh. Well, more waitin', then."
"Yuhuh." Rico returned to his stamp collection.
IOIOIOIOIO
While the brisk breeze whizzed through his feathers, Kowalski channeled Dr. Phil's advice about using humor in crisis situations as he blurted the first thing that came to mind.
"Who do you think cherrypicked all the cashews out of our can of mixed nuts?"
Skipper pressed harder on the accelerator. "Who cares?"
While they looped thrice around Fred's tree, Kowalski labored to spot Frankie in its branches. One heron, check, two chickadees, check, three partridges, check, four unknown birds calling to each other, check - "Sir, I spot no pigeons. Perhaps the beech trees by Wollman Rink? It's a convenient water supply."
"Sure, why not?"
Five beeches and six cherry trees later, Kowalski put down his binoculars and suggested, "Scattering breadcrumbs will attract pigeons. Got any?"
"Do I look like I do? And sorry sorry again. Sarcasm helps me you know that after all this time so I don't need to apologize for apologizing again, right?"
Kowalski discerned growing ... fear? In Skipper? Derail the negative nellie train of thought by acting briskly, Doctor Phil would say. "Pull over a minute, please. All the Earl Grey I drank this morning demands release."
"Welllll - "
"Immediately, or face the consequences." It was time to adopt his Commander Kowalski voice and oh my gosh golly, it worked. Skipper zzzzred the car to a gigantic live oak's trunk whose gnarled bark somehow looked familiar. He opened his car door, too.
"Yeah, okay. Let's make this short."
Standing nearly elbow to elbow facing the dark trunk, they both let fly for the sake of sweet relief. Doctor Phil said common circumstances become relating ops, so Kowalski offered a comment mid-splash. "There's tryin' and there's doin'."
They both had drunk large amounts of caffeine this morning. "Why are you talking like Private?"
"Uh, not Private, it's Doctor Phil. Perhaps, sir, an option is that we tried to locate Frankie for your payback, we did try, and that's enough for today?" He hurried onward after a piss shiver to tuck himself away. "Unless you'd rather - "
"I'd rather this was all over with is what I'd rather. The suspense is killing me." Skipper's flash flood continued. "Never ever thought I'd be in this sitch, compadre. I was so careful with each female. They appreciated it in any number of ways."
Yes, his commander had consumed eight cups of coffee in forty-five minutes, a new record. "And you're afraid now of our new life."
"Our?" Skipper flicked away a drop before slipping himself back inside snowy feathers.
"Oh come on! Do you honestly think that I or Rico would let you and Private deal with a newborn alone? That's insulting to your training and to us as individuals and teammates to each other." Kowalski crossed his flippers and leaned against a dry section of trunk. Now was the time to lay it on thick.
"Well - "
"And egg carrying is a guy thing once it's laid. You know in your heart of hearts that all your team is ready, willing, and able to man six-hour shifts. Really, sir, it's insulting." Kowalski troweled on the mortar to another layer of bricks.
"But - "
"But nothing! Anybody asks, we say it's a team egg carrying mission and we're all in it together. I'm including Marlene in this after she returns from touring the National Zoo. She told Rico and me about her trip last night."
"Oh - "
"Wait, you're right. Marlene knows about me and Rico and you and Private, so she'll guess something outrageous happened. She doesn't know about Frances Alberta Santeria particulars, am I right?"
"Uh huh - "
"Who else knows about you and Private?"
"Maybe Roy and maybe Shelly, I dunno. I'm not sure and I hate that. Burt? It's questionable with him, too."
"Well. Um. Well. So three others might. Watson's reply, so what? Life is life, we're all animals in the same zoo, we understand about how animals get babies, and maybe we ought to have a baby shower like Alice's for you two to brazen it out to our fellow zoosters? Is that even an option for you? I won't ask about Private because he's 98.6 percent to be over the moon about one."
Skipper leaned back against the trunk, avoiding the wet spot and also eye contact. "Ven acá, mi terroncito de azúcar, I think even Private would say a shower is too twee for commandos." He crossed his flippers tightly over his chest. "Shit, Kowalski, I can't even think of a name. I'm drowning in a typhoon just like Manfredi and Johnson did. I want this baby, but I can't grab hold of me being a parent."
Two minutes passed as Kowalski digested this unexpected personal data. Finally, he decided on a simple truth to impart. "You're an outstanding commander, which is similar to being a parent. You'll do fine."
"Aw, nuts."
"So said McAuliffe at Bastogne."
"No, I mean real nuts. See the ones that just fell?"
Kowalski noticed a spate of last winter's shriveled acorns a yard from the trunk. One rolled lopsidedly away from the group. "Not until you mentioned it just now. What about th- "
Fred's laconic tones drifted downwards like sludgy spring snow. "Hi, guys. Thanks for watering my tree."
"This is your tree?" Skipper's voice had already lost its vulnerability.
Fred slowly peeled a plumper looking acorn. "Well, technically it's my Granny's tree and I just live with her, but yeah, we signed mortgage papers and everything."
Kowalski refused to parse this impossibility. Fred, the dumbest squirrel he knew, could read and write while he, a genius penguin, could not? He made a face and muttered, "I will not engage, no I will not. Skipper, take over."
With a look that said volumes about the chain of command with the added caveat of course I'll take over, Skipper continued on the offensive. "What do you know and when did you know it?"
"I know my name! I knew it five minutes after I was born. I'm a slow learner." Fred finished peeling and held up the acorn. "This acorn look funny to you?"
Kowalski imploded in a self-limited fashion, which was a good thing because without Rico around to temper his love's moods, Kowalski might have turned into a black hole. As it was, he knocked his head repeatedly against the mighty oak's bark without contributing to the conversation.
Skipper pursued his agenda. "No, Fred, think hard. What do you know about me? What did you overhear?"
"You and the tall guy plan to shower together?"
Kowalski emitted a strangled grunt and a hmmmmmmprt.
"That's ... exactly right. Me and the tall guy. Yeah, that'll work. Get back in the car, Tall Guy. See you around, Fred."
"Around what?"
IOIOIOIOIO
Seven minutes later in the middle of Strawberry Fields, Kowalski leaned over the open hood where a wisp of smoke lingered. "You - we appear to have fried the franistan supraorbital valve. I could jimmy up a new one in my lab, but a better option is to BlackBerry Rico to bring his magical wonder tum to do that."
Inchoate sentences arose in between fist thumpings against the left quarter panel. "Dammit - shit - damn damn damn double damn triple damn hell! Of all times for a breakdown! Kowalski, make it so. I can't talk right now. Tell him to bring breadcrumbs, too!" More Angry Words blistered the springtime atmosphere to end in a mild "ph-ph-ph-phu-phooey!"
"On it!" Kowalski faced in the direction of the zoo, although he didn't need to. He thought to give his commander moments to regain composure before a subordinate arrived. Lieutenant and commander had to stick together in such times. "Rico, calling Rico."
"Tenfore."
"Everything okay home base?"
"Kay."
"Then we need your expertise, location 103 yards south of the Imagine Mosaic, 450.7 yards west of Cherry Hill Fountain, directly west of southern tip of The Lake. Specific location is behind wire fence next to the trunk of an American holly bush, approximate height 38.49 feet and approximate width 23.4 feet. Oh, and bring breadcrumbs. Copy?"
"Copygimmefifteenkay?"
"Kay. Out."Kowalski continued peering through the holly's evergreen spiky leaves to maintain a watchful perimeter. This past winter's berries still supplied colorful cheer among its branches. "Done, sir."
Skipper's steam having spent itself, he plotzed in the winter-blasted grass beside the left rear wheel. "Maybe I'll do better with setting protocol. What will the new recruit call us, Kowalski? I'm thinking Papa for me, Daddy for you, and Jefe for Rico. I'm reserving Father for Private, although" - he sighed - "this is too personal to not allow approval and redistribution, naturalmente."
Kowalski grew thoughtful in turn as he plotzed beside Skipper to await Rico. "Maybe Private would prefer a Britishism such as Da?"
Dispensing a dispassionate comment failed to consider Skipper's flash points and Kowalski regretted airing it. "I'll nip that in the bud! Oi, Da! 'Ave a go at this mission, eh wot? the kid would say and my Un-American Alarm sense would tingle! No kid of mine will ever, ever say that!"
Fourteen more minutes, thought Kowalski. Hurry up, lover. Never mind the breadcrumbs.
Thirty-one minutes and half a dozen grease smudges later, Kowalski, Skipper and Rico zzzrrrrrred into their garage.
Thirty-one point six minutes later, Skipper beheld his egg.
IOIOIOIOIO
Private answered giddily, "Only a little, K'walski, maybe one third owwie. Mostly for fifteen minutes it was stretchin', pressure, twingin' and then, quotin' Shelly, I squatted while breathin' like she advised and out it popped. Beautiful, innit?"
Skipper cradled the smooth surface to his chest. A single, manly tear dropped onto its ivory surface to be wiped away by Private. The moment appeared too solemn for any more words from the team, well, any more meaningful ones.
Rico said, "Hwarg," and buried his face in Kowalski's pit. Kowalski drank in the sight of a miracle as he patted Rico's back. The odds of this occurrence flashed like Fourth of July sparklers in his brain, the numbers dying even as they formed. This was life renewing itself as he had thought to do upon observing the falcon dive bomb the hapless duck into the wilds of Hallett Nature Sanctuary last October: Life was the victor. He rested his beak atop Rico's mohawk.
IOIOIOIOIO
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Undertow