For a long while, Kowalski traveled in the dark. The only way he could see anything was because of the gentle moonlight and Aurora Borealis dancing across the sky. He persisted through the snow, fighting against the wind. The cold pinched at his face and made it difficult to keep his eyes open. Finally, he assumed that it’d be best to just stop and get some rest.
Without much option on a place to sleep, he just stopped where he was and laid his spare gant down. Feet first, he climbed inside the gant until his head was inside. The insulated gant did its job; he was completely warm, except for the air that brushed against the haut, retour au début of his head from the opening in the glove. He soon found sleep.
Several hours later, he woke to sounds coming from the outside of the glove. At first, he thought it was just the wind howling of the wind, but he then heard voices approaching in the distance along with the shuffle of feet through snow. He couldn’t quite make out what was being a dit until they were a few feet away.
“…you think it came from?” a dit one voice.
“I’m not sure,” answered another voice. “I got something on the radar coming from the shoreline about four-and-a-half miles back.”
“How many humans do toi think there are?”
“I don’t know. The snow covered their tracks. I’ve got a man working on intercepting signals. He’s got something, but the line is secure. So he’s got to break through a few firewalls before he’ll be able to relay the message.”
“So, what now? We wait?”
“I don’t see what other choice we have.”
Kowalski hesitated. He could easily wriggle out of the gant and tell them everything. Perhaps they could help him, even. However, whoever was out there could also be an enemy. Maybe even someone worse than the men that Preston worked for. His decision was made for him when he felt the gant being raised and he squirmed in shock and fear.
“Hey, hey! Wait!” he involuntarily cried from inside the glove.
“Whoa! There’s someone in here!” exclaimed one of the voices.
Kowalski pushed through the gloves’ opening and fell into the snow. Pushing himself up par his elbows, he pushed himself back in fear of what whoever had found him may do next.
“Whoa, it’s okay, kid. We’re not gonna hurt you,” a dit the tallest penguin. He had a white vest around his abdomen with a row of badges displayed on the left shoulder and black name tag on the right that read KITWELL in thin, white, capital letters. Kowalski looked back into Kitwell’s eyes, remembering what Lorrie a dit she’d look for when seeing if someone was lying to her. From what he read in his expression, he seemed to mean no harm.
“What are toi doing way out here, kid?” asked the other shorter penguin, who spoke with an accent. He, too, had on a white vest, but on his left shoulder were a series of colored ribbons arranged horizontally and bunched close together. His name tag read SVANTE. When Kowalski didn’t answer, they exchanged a glance.
“It’s alright, kid. We’re not going to hurt you,” Svante assured him taking a step closer and offering a flipper to help him up. Kowalski stared at his flipper for a moment, hesitating to accept it. But his kind eyes seemed to tell him, It’s okay. toi can trust me. He reached up and accepted his flipper to help him to his feet.
“Now, back to my question. What are toi doing way out here?” Svante asked again. Kowalski cleared his throat slightly.
“I-I was brought here…By boat. The bateau crashed and I was accidentally left alone,” he told them. They exchanged a glance, then looked back down to him.
“Who was with toi before?” Kitwell asked. Kowalski shifted a glance between them.
“My father died when I hatched. A human has been raising me for the past two weeks. But now someone’s after her! They’ll kill them!” Kowalski exclaimed with panic rising in his throat.
“Hey, hey, now, kid. Calm down. Why don’t toi come with us? Maybe we can help you,” Svante offered. Kowalski took a hasty step back.
“Who are you?” he asked nervously.
“I’m First Sergeant George Kitwell, and this is Captain Felix Svante,” Kitwell a dit gesturing to himself, then Svante. “We are official Antarctic Military Personnel,” he further explained.
“What does that mean?” Kowalski asked.
“It means toi can trust us. We’re trained to help people. No matter what species, and no matter how big ou small,” Svante answered. Kowalski thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Alright,” he agreed. Kitwell smiled and nodded back.
“So, what’s your name, kid?” he asked scooping the small manchot, pingouin into his flippers.
♦ ♦ ♦
“So, Kowalski, how did toi make that little manteau toi got on there? It looks like it doesn’t fit quite right,” Kitwell asked. He was carrying Kowalski along with Svante at his side.
“I used this couteau thing that I found to cut the fingers off of a glove,” Kowalski answered.
“Wow, impressive. Usually, someone your age wouldn’t think of something so clever,” Kitwell responded.
“My human mother is a smart woman. I guess I got my way of thinking from her,” Kowalski told him.
“Human mother?” Kitwell inquired.
“Well, she took me in when my father died. Without her, I wouldn’t have survived this long. She took care of me. ‘Mother’ just seems like the right term for her,” Kowalski explained.
“I see. And what is this talk about ‘they’ll kill her’? Who is they?” Kitwell asked.
“Apparently there are some drug tester guys in Antarctica testing on penguins. They’re the ones that killed my father. Lorrie found out about them and now they want to kill her before she can do anything about it,” Kowalski explained.
“Wait…Drug testers?” Kitwell repeated. “What all do toi know about this?”
“I just know that the drug they’re testing helps enhance your athletic abilities and that they have some kind of facility somewhere in Antarctica,” Kowalski answered.
Kitwell and Svante exchanged a glance.
“What? Do toi guys know something about that place?” Kowalski asked in response to the recognition that showed in their eyes.
“Well, it’s classified,” a dit Kitwell, “I’m not allowed to tell you. But perhaps I can convince the Major to let me since toi seem to be of potential assistance.”
“But I think that’s all I know,” Kowalski replied.
“True, but toi seem to be a smart kid. Maybe toi can help us. Plus, toi seem to know a little plus than us at the moment. We’ve been trying to—”
Svante interrupted Kitwell par prodding his side with his elbow and giving him a stare. Kitwell cleared his throat slightly.
“Like I said. We’ll see what we can do when we get to base.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The base was huge…And underground. Kowalski wondered how anyone could be able to construct a secret underground building under ice. Though, he knew better than to ask. Like most things when it came to these MP’s, it was probably classified.
He could tell, however, that a lot of work had to be put into it. Surely, it must’ve taken years. When Kitwell and Svante had brought him down into the secret entrance, the first thing Kowalski noticed was that the walls were lined with wooden supports. There wasn’t a spot of snow in sight, except for what powdered the floor just through the entrance, that is.
It was lit par the long, tube-like fluorescent lights. Penguins in vests similar to Kitwell’s and Svante’s passed par them and disappeared through doors as they moved through the hallways, though some of them wore matching white caps. Some carried clipboards and others just their weapon. A couple moved through pushing a chariot, panier full of envelopes.
Finally, Kitwell and Svante turned off into a small room. On the back end of the room, a leather canapé sat against the wall. There was a coffee table, tableau in front of it and a small end table, tableau on either side of it. Kitwell set Kowalski down on the sofa and knelt in front of him.
“You wait here and I’ll go get the Major. We’ll see what we’ll do with toi then. Alright?” Kitwell a dit kindly. Kowalski nodded and Kitwell smiled, touched his forehead, then left with Svante, shutting the door behind them.
Kowalski glanced around the room. It was very plain. On the mur opposite, there hung one medium-sized picture of a white-vested white monkey who seemed to be in his fifties ou sixties. He had a distant look in his eye as if he were carefully watching something that was miles away. Across his left shoulder, there were several different colored metals with different symbols inside each golden circle. The other shoulder displayed his black name tag: SHINGEN. The picture complemented itself with a fancy golden-colored frame, and underneath there was a silver rectangle of metal with écriture engraved in it. Kowalski jumped from the canapé and approached it so he could read it.
NIBORU SHINGEN
GENERAL OF THE ARMY
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
1873-1941
He studied the photo one plus time, then turned his head to see the other side of the room.
To the adjacent wall, there were four rows of eight pictures and a bottom fifth row with only three pictures, all with another old-looking manchot, pingouin in a white vest with médailles displayed on the left shoulder. Though, the only rows that he could actually read clearly were the bottom two due to his height.
Only glancing at the pictures above, he read off the names of each plaque: DARWIN R. O’DAIRE, DWIGHT B. SELTING, RAFAEL S. FRANCISCO, BUCK D. ROCKGUT, SAMUEL J. VERNON—
Kowalski turned at the sound of the door opening behind him. A manchot, pingouin stepped into the room with that same white vest on and médailles displayed on the left shoulder. His name tag read BRINKIT. When he saw him standing over par the wall, he shut the door behind him and stepped toward him until they were about a foot apart and he knelt down.
“So, you’re Kowalski, eh?” Brinkit asked. Kowalski swallowed and nodded slowly. Brinkit smiled. “I’m Major Brinkit. Sergeant Kitwell tells me that toi know a little something about a drug-testing facility here in Antarctica,” he inquired. Kowalski nodded again and fidgeted with his flippers as he answered.
“They’re testing drugs on penguins,” he said.
“How do toi know this?” Brinkit asked.
“My father died when I hatched. My human found out that it was a drug that killed him. Whatever it is is meant to enhance athletic abilities. She wanted to go after them, but now those men are after her and want to kill her before she turns them in,” Kowalski explained.
“Wow, a lot of big words for someone your age,” Brinkit pointed out.
“The manchot, pingouin absorbs most of its knowledge during the incubation period and when their young. And sir, my human talks a lot,” Kowalski told him. Brinkit chuckled.
“Well, I think it’s sûr, sans danger to let toi in a little secret. We know that there’s a facility in Antarctica. We’ve been trying to get men inside, but the security in that place is tight. We haven’t been able to figure out what they were doing because the men we’ve sent in was never able to come back out. Even the times we sent them in with a form of communication, the line would always end up going dead for unknown reasons. So, you’ve helped us out greatly. Your father’s death will not be in vain. Do toi know where your human is now?” he asked.
“I don’t know where they are now, but I know where they were headed. There’s a cabine a ways from the shore. It’s where I was first hatched. They were planning on trying to contact someone for help,” Kowalski explained.
“They?” Brinkit inquired.
“Oh, her and this guy that wanted to help,” Kowalski told him. He thought about telling him that he also worked for those men, but decided against it. Preston was trying to help Lorrie, too. He couldn’t turn him in. Brinkit nodded.
“Come with me. I think I know what we can do.”
Without much option on a place to sleep, he just stopped where he was and laid his spare gant down. Feet first, he climbed inside the gant until his head was inside. The insulated gant did its job; he was completely warm, except for the air that brushed against the haut, retour au début of his head from the opening in the glove. He soon found sleep.
Several hours later, he woke to sounds coming from the outside of the glove. At first, he thought it was just the wind howling of the wind, but he then heard voices approaching in the distance along with the shuffle of feet through snow. He couldn’t quite make out what was being a dit until they were a few feet away.
“…you think it came from?” a dit one voice.
“I’m not sure,” answered another voice. “I got something on the radar coming from the shoreline about four-and-a-half miles back.”
“How many humans do toi think there are?”
“I don’t know. The snow covered their tracks. I’ve got a man working on intercepting signals. He’s got something, but the line is secure. So he’s got to break through a few firewalls before he’ll be able to relay the message.”
“So, what now? We wait?”
“I don’t see what other choice we have.”
Kowalski hesitated. He could easily wriggle out of the gant and tell them everything. Perhaps they could help him, even. However, whoever was out there could also be an enemy. Maybe even someone worse than the men that Preston worked for. His decision was made for him when he felt the gant being raised and he squirmed in shock and fear.
“Hey, hey! Wait!” he involuntarily cried from inside the glove.
“Whoa! There’s someone in here!” exclaimed one of the voices.
Kowalski pushed through the gloves’ opening and fell into the snow. Pushing himself up par his elbows, he pushed himself back in fear of what whoever had found him may do next.
“Whoa, it’s okay, kid. We’re not gonna hurt you,” a dit the tallest penguin. He had a white vest around his abdomen with a row of badges displayed on the left shoulder and black name tag on the right that read KITWELL in thin, white, capital letters. Kowalski looked back into Kitwell’s eyes, remembering what Lorrie a dit she’d look for when seeing if someone was lying to her. From what he read in his expression, he seemed to mean no harm.
“What are toi doing way out here, kid?” asked the other shorter penguin, who spoke with an accent. He, too, had on a white vest, but on his left shoulder were a series of colored ribbons arranged horizontally and bunched close together. His name tag read SVANTE. When Kowalski didn’t answer, they exchanged a glance.
“It’s alright, kid. We’re not going to hurt you,” Svante assured him taking a step closer and offering a flipper to help him up. Kowalski stared at his flipper for a moment, hesitating to accept it. But his kind eyes seemed to tell him, It’s okay. toi can trust me. He reached up and accepted his flipper to help him to his feet.
“Now, back to my question. What are toi doing way out here?” Svante asked again. Kowalski cleared his throat slightly.
“I-I was brought here…By boat. The bateau crashed and I was accidentally left alone,” he told them. They exchanged a glance, then looked back down to him.
“Who was with toi before?” Kitwell asked. Kowalski shifted a glance between them.
“My father died when I hatched. A human has been raising me for the past two weeks. But now someone’s after her! They’ll kill them!” Kowalski exclaimed with panic rising in his throat.
“Hey, hey, now, kid. Calm down. Why don’t toi come with us? Maybe we can help you,” Svante offered. Kowalski took a hasty step back.
“Who are you?” he asked nervously.
“I’m First Sergeant George Kitwell, and this is Captain Felix Svante,” Kitwell a dit gesturing to himself, then Svante. “We are official Antarctic Military Personnel,” he further explained.
“What does that mean?” Kowalski asked.
“It means toi can trust us. We’re trained to help people. No matter what species, and no matter how big ou small,” Svante answered. Kowalski thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Alright,” he agreed. Kitwell smiled and nodded back.
“So, what’s your name, kid?” he asked scooping the small manchot, pingouin into his flippers.
♦ ♦ ♦
“So, Kowalski, how did toi make that little manteau toi got on there? It looks like it doesn’t fit quite right,” Kitwell asked. He was carrying Kowalski along with Svante at his side.
“I used this couteau thing that I found to cut the fingers off of a glove,” Kowalski answered.
“Wow, impressive. Usually, someone your age wouldn’t think of something so clever,” Kitwell responded.
“My human mother is a smart woman. I guess I got my way of thinking from her,” Kowalski told him.
“Human mother?” Kitwell inquired.
“Well, she took me in when my father died. Without her, I wouldn’t have survived this long. She took care of me. ‘Mother’ just seems like the right term for her,” Kowalski explained.
“I see. And what is this talk about ‘they’ll kill her’? Who is they?” Kitwell asked.
“Apparently there are some drug tester guys in Antarctica testing on penguins. They’re the ones that killed my father. Lorrie found out about them and now they want to kill her before she can do anything about it,” Kowalski explained.
“Wait…Drug testers?” Kitwell repeated. “What all do toi know about this?”
“I just know that the drug they’re testing helps enhance your athletic abilities and that they have some kind of facility somewhere in Antarctica,” Kowalski answered.
Kitwell and Svante exchanged a glance.
“What? Do toi guys know something about that place?” Kowalski asked in response to the recognition that showed in their eyes.
“Well, it’s classified,” a dit Kitwell, “I’m not allowed to tell you. But perhaps I can convince the Major to let me since toi seem to be of potential assistance.”
“But I think that’s all I know,” Kowalski replied.
“True, but toi seem to be a smart kid. Maybe toi can help us. Plus, toi seem to know a little plus than us at the moment. We’ve been trying to—”
Svante interrupted Kitwell par prodding his side with his elbow and giving him a stare. Kitwell cleared his throat slightly.
“Like I said. We’ll see what we can do when we get to base.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The base was huge…And underground. Kowalski wondered how anyone could be able to construct a secret underground building under ice. Though, he knew better than to ask. Like most things when it came to these MP’s, it was probably classified.
He could tell, however, that a lot of work had to be put into it. Surely, it must’ve taken years. When Kitwell and Svante had brought him down into the secret entrance, the first thing Kowalski noticed was that the walls were lined with wooden supports. There wasn’t a spot of snow in sight, except for what powdered the floor just through the entrance, that is.
It was lit par the long, tube-like fluorescent lights. Penguins in vests similar to Kitwell’s and Svante’s passed par them and disappeared through doors as they moved through the hallways, though some of them wore matching white caps. Some carried clipboards and others just their weapon. A couple moved through pushing a chariot, panier full of envelopes.
Finally, Kitwell and Svante turned off into a small room. On the back end of the room, a leather canapé sat against the wall. There was a coffee table, tableau in front of it and a small end table, tableau on either side of it. Kitwell set Kowalski down on the sofa and knelt in front of him.
“You wait here and I’ll go get the Major. We’ll see what we’ll do with toi then. Alright?” Kitwell a dit kindly. Kowalski nodded and Kitwell smiled, touched his forehead, then left with Svante, shutting the door behind them.
Kowalski glanced around the room. It was very plain. On the mur opposite, there hung one medium-sized picture of a white-vested white monkey who seemed to be in his fifties ou sixties. He had a distant look in his eye as if he were carefully watching something that was miles away. Across his left shoulder, there were several different colored metals with different symbols inside each golden circle. The other shoulder displayed his black name tag: SHINGEN. The picture complemented itself with a fancy golden-colored frame, and underneath there was a silver rectangle of metal with écriture engraved in it. Kowalski jumped from the canapé and approached it so he could read it.
NIBORU SHINGEN
GENERAL OF THE ARMY
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
1873-1941
He studied the photo one plus time, then turned his head to see the other side of the room.
To the adjacent wall, there were four rows of eight pictures and a bottom fifth row with only three pictures, all with another old-looking manchot, pingouin in a white vest with médailles displayed on the left shoulder. Though, the only rows that he could actually read clearly were the bottom two due to his height.
Only glancing at the pictures above, he read off the names of each plaque: DARWIN R. O’DAIRE, DWIGHT B. SELTING, RAFAEL S. FRANCISCO, BUCK D. ROCKGUT, SAMUEL J. VERNON—
Kowalski turned at the sound of the door opening behind him. A manchot, pingouin stepped into the room with that same white vest on and médailles displayed on the left shoulder. His name tag read BRINKIT. When he saw him standing over par the wall, he shut the door behind him and stepped toward him until they were about a foot apart and he knelt down.
“So, you’re Kowalski, eh?” Brinkit asked. Kowalski swallowed and nodded slowly. Brinkit smiled. “I’m Major Brinkit. Sergeant Kitwell tells me that toi know a little something about a drug-testing facility here in Antarctica,” he inquired. Kowalski nodded again and fidgeted with his flippers as he answered.
“They’re testing drugs on penguins,” he said.
“How do toi know this?” Brinkit asked.
“My father died when I hatched. My human found out that it was a drug that killed him. Whatever it is is meant to enhance athletic abilities. She wanted to go after them, but now those men are after her and want to kill her before she turns them in,” Kowalski explained.
“Wow, a lot of big words for someone your age,” Brinkit pointed out.
“The manchot, pingouin absorbs most of its knowledge during the incubation period and when their young. And sir, my human talks a lot,” Kowalski told him. Brinkit chuckled.
“Well, I think it’s sûr, sans danger to let toi in a little secret. We know that there’s a facility in Antarctica. We’ve been trying to get men inside, but the security in that place is tight. We haven’t been able to figure out what they were doing because the men we’ve sent in was never able to come back out. Even the times we sent them in with a form of communication, the line would always end up going dead for unknown reasons. So, you’ve helped us out greatly. Your father’s death will not be in vain. Do toi know where your human is now?” he asked.
“I don’t know where they are now, but I know where they were headed. There’s a cabine a ways from the shore. It’s where I was first hatched. They were planning on trying to contact someone for help,” Kowalski explained.
“They?” Brinkit inquired.
“Oh, her and this guy that wanted to help,” Kowalski told him. He thought about telling him that he also worked for those men, but decided against it. Preston was trying to help Lorrie, too. He couldn’t turn him in. Brinkit nodded.
“Come with me. I think I know what we can do.”
