by Tracey West
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CHAPTER 1
Stop That Egg!
In the not-too-distant past . . .
Skipper. Kowalski. Rico. Private. They are penguins, but more than penguins. They are an elite unit. Soldiers. Heroes. Saving penguins who have been kidnapped from zoos and aquariums all over the world from bad guys. But like other heroes before them, these penguins came from humble beginnings. They were hatched in the frozen wasteland of Antarctica, where they waddled and played with the rest of the young penguins.
In those days, it was just Skipper, Kowalski, and Rico. When they weren’t frolicking, they spent endless hours marching in long lines. Luckily, a documentary crew was there to capture it all on film.
“Does anyone even know where we’re marching to?” young Skipper asked his friends.
Four adult penguins waddled past them.
“Who cares?” asked the first one.
“I question nothing!” announced the second.
“Me too!” added the third.
“Me too!” finished the fourth.
But Skipper did care. There had to be more to life than marching in line. He craned his neck to look up ahead, but all he could see were more penguins.
“Well, fine,” Skipper said. “We’ll just fly to the front of the line and see for ourselves. Kowalski, Rico, engage aerial surveillance!”
The two penguins stood on their tiptoes, flapping their short wings as hard as they could. Kowalski grunted. Rico’s face turned red from the effort. But they didn’t budge.
“Skipper, we appear to be flightless!” Kowalski reported.
Skipper held up his flippers.
“Well, what’s the point of these?” he asked angrily.
Rico, the silent member of the group, looked thoughtfully at one of his flippers. Then he slapped one of Skipper’s flippers with it in a high-five.
Skipper’s eyes widened.
“Whoa! I like it!” he exclaimed. “Hey, this could be our thing! What are we gonna call it? Let’s call it the, uh . . . the high-one!”
Suddenly a large white egg rolled into the penguins, knocking them over. It rolled away as they got back on their feet.
“Hey! Anybody see that? That’s an egg! Is someone gonna go and get it?” Skipper yelled.
The nearest adult penguins stopped. They looked at one another nervously. “We can’t do that,” one replied.
“Well, why not?” Skipper asked.
“It’s a dangerous world out there,” another penguin explained. “And we’re just penguins. You know, nothing but . . . cute and cuddly.”
“Yeah, why do you think there are always documentary crews filming us?” a penguin asked.
Another penguin shrugged. “Sorry, kid. We lose a few eggs every year. It’s just nature.”
“Right, nature. I guess that makes sense,” Skipper replied, but then his eyes narrowed with steely determination. “Something . . . something deep down in my gut tells me that it makes no sense at all. You know what? I reject nature!”
The penguin marchers gasped loudly. Skipper raised a flipper like he was leading a charge in battle.
“Who’s with me?” he yelled. “Ya-ha!”
He took off after the egg, sliding on his belly across the slippery ice. The egg launched right over a cliff! Skipper tried to stop, but he was going too fast. He slid headfirst off the cliff!
Then he suddenly stopped. Craning his neck, he saw that Kowalski and Rico had grabbed his feet and were pulling him back.
Skipper hopped to his feet and the three penguins peered over the cliff’s edge. The egg was still furiously rolling down the cliffside, dodging sharp spikes of ice.
“Gah!” said Skipper, Kowalski, and Rico.
Then the egg landed on a ledge of soft snow, and the penguins breathed a sigh of relief.
But the ledge broke off!
“Gah!” said the penguins again.
The snow tumbled farther down the cliff with the egg in the center, forming a giant snowball as it rolled. At the bottom of the cliff, the snowball hit the bow of an old abandoned whaling ship. It cracked in half.
“Gah!” cried the three young birds.
Unharmed, the egg spilled out onto the ship’s deck.
“The old ship!” Kowalski exclaimed. “No one’s ever returned from there alive.”
“Relax, Kowalski, there’s a bird down there now,” Skipper told him. “Look, he’s fine.”
A tiny bird hopped across the ship when suddenly a huge leopard seal emerged from the water. It opened its tooth-filled mouth and swallowed the bird whole!
The penguins shrunk back in horror.
“Leopard seals!” Skipper growled. “Nature’s snakes!”
“Aren’t snakes nature’s snakes?” Kowalski asked.
“How should I know?” Skipper asked. “I live on the flippin’ frozen tundra!”
They watched as the huge seal climbed onto the ship’s deck, followed by two other seals. They wriggled their way toward the helpless egg.
“They’re going for the egg!” Skipper cried. “Gimme a way down there, ASAP!”
Kowalski thoughtfully stroked his chin with his flipper. “All one would have to do is collect thirty feet of kelp . . . ,” he mused out loud.
The penguins didn’t notice, but the film crew was right behind them. The director narrated in a whisper.
“Tiny and helpless, the baby penguins are frozen with fear. They know if they fall from this cliff, they will surely die.” He nodded to his cameraman. “Gunter, give them a shove.”
“. . . harnessing the jellyfish we’ve trained to obey simple voice commands—” Kowalski was saying, when a microphone pole reached out and bumped into the penguins. The three of them tumbled down the cliffside.
“Now that’s more like it!” Skipper cheered.
CHAPTER 2
Private Hatches
Still in the not-too-distant past . . .
They spilled onto the deck of the ship. Rico sailed forward, his arms ready to grab hold of the egg.
“Attaboy, Rico! Don’t let those seals have it!” Skipper yelled.
Rico swept in just before the seals reached the egg. He picked it up—and popped it into his mouth, swallowing it in his miraculous gullet.
“Okay, I guess that works,” Skipper said.
Now the seals noticed the penguins. They lunged forward, snapping at their flippers.
“Get to higher ground!” cried Kowalski.
The three penguins grabbed onto a rope attached to a harpoon gun that looked like a long metal spear. They swung themselves on top of the gun and out of the seals’ reach.
“Boo-yah!” Skipper cheered.
But the weight of the penguins caused the harpoon gun to dip, and they started to slide right to the seals.
“I’d recommend firing it now,” Kowalski said.
“Nope. Hold on,” Skipper ordered.
“Uh, we really should fire it,” Kowalski repeated.
“Not till we see the whites of their eyes,” Skipper insisted. That just seemed like the right thing to do.
Kowalski was starting to panic. “They’re mostly pupil, very little white. Almost none!”
“They got to have a little bit of white, right?” Skipper
asked.
Kowalski shook his head. “None whatsoever.”
“What if they look really far to the left?” Skipper pressed.
Snap! A massive set of jaws clamped down inches away from Skipper.
“Fire in the hole!” Skipper yelled.
Rico pulled the trigger, and the long harpoon shot from the gun, carrying the three penguins with it. They arced across the water and landed one on top of the other on the surface of an iceberg. The egg popped out of Rico’s beak.
They had done it! They’d saved the egg!
“Kowalski, analysis?’ Skipper asked.
“We are really awesome at this!” Kowalski replied.
Skipper’s eyes got wide as he realized something. “Hey! Hey! We can do our thing!” he said. “High-one!” He held up a flipper, and they all smacked flippers. It felt good.
Smack! Smack! Smack! They kept doing it. In his excitement, Skipper accidentally smacked the egg, and it began to crack.
“Oops. My bad,” Skipper said.
They heard a pecking sound, and the egg cracked some more.
“Look, it’s the miracle of birth,” Skipper said.
Splat! The egg cracked all the way open, spewing goo all over them.
“Ick! That’s disgusting!” Skipper wailed.
A chick popped out. His skin was wrinkly and damp from the fluid inside the egg. The top of the eggshell was stuck to his head. He had a goofy grin on his baby face. It was newly hatched Private!
“Aaaah!” The penguins recoiled.
But Private smiled at them, and they couldn’t help smiling back.
“Hello! Are you my family?” the little guy asked.
The three penguins looked around them. The iceberg was floating far away from their home in Antarctica. They were surrounded by ocean on all sides—an ocean filled with leopard seals, sharks, and other creatures that loved to eat penguins.
“You don’t have a family, and we’re all going to die,” Kowalski answered.
Private’s lip quivered. Skipper slapped Kowalski.
“Nobody’s gonna die!” he said firmly.
He pulled the eggshell off the baby’s head.
“You know what you’ve got, kid? You’ve got us. And we’ve got each other,” Skipper told him. “If that ain’t a family, I don’t know what is.”
He saluted Private, who adorably saluted him back. Skipper tousled the feathers on his head.
“Kowalski, what’s our trajectory?”
Kowalski held up a flipper and looked at the sun.
“Ninety-five percent certain, we’re still doomed,” he reported.
“And, uh, the other five percent?” Skipper asked.
“Adventure and glory like no penguins have ever seen before!” Kowalski replied.
Skipper nodded. “I’ll take that action.”
“Where are we going?” Private asked.
“The future, boys. The glorious future,” Skipper replied as the iceberg sailed into the sunset.
CHAPTER 3
Happy Birthday, Private!
Ten years later . . .
A funky beat pumped throughout the Afro Circus tent.
“Afro Circus! Afro Circus! Polka dot, polka dot, polka dot . . .”
Normally the penguins worked security backstage while their zoo friends performed for the excited crowds. But tonight, they were on a mission.
Rico lit a long fuse outside the circus tent. As the fuse burned, it snaked around the tent and then curved into the entrance.
Rico followed the burning fuse. It burned past Private, who was dancing to the beat. Skipper stood by the circus’s colorful cannon, taking it all in.
“Kowalski, status report!” he barked.
“I am really getting tired of this song!” Kowalski replied.
He ran up to the cannon, carrying a rolled-up circus banner. Rico jumped beside him and together they stuffed the banner inside the mouth of the cannon. Then Kowalski and Rico jumped in, followed by Skipper and Private.
Skipper grinned. “That’s the best part of owning a circus. You can transport a cannon over state lines.”
Boom! They shot from the cannon through the top of the circus tent. The circus banner unfurled to become a crude glider, and the four penguins held on tightly as they soared across the night sky.
“Ten years ago, on this very day, a tiny egg hatched, and our world got a little bit cuter,” Skipper said, and Private giggled.
“So tonight, Private, we celebrate your birthday by infiltrating the United States Gold Depository in Fort Knox, Kentucky!” Skipper announced.
“Splendid!” Kowalski cheered.
Rico beamed happily.
“What?” Private asked, alarmed.
Down below, the huge fortress came into view. Guard towers surrounded the building, as well as a concrete wall topped with razor wire.
Skipper’s eyes gleamed. “The Royal Flush.”
“Skipper . . . ,” Private said nervously.
Skipper shot him a warning glare. “Private, what’s our rule about interrupting analogies?” he asked.
“Sorry, please continue,” Private said.
Skipper sighed. “The moment’s gone. Private ruined it!”
“Sir, we’re approaching our target,” Kowalski warned.
Bam! They smashed into a wall on the top of Fort Knox. Quickly recovering, they peered over the edge of the roof. Two military police officers stood guard at the entrance.
Private was not liking this at all. “But, Skipper, I really don’t—”
“Are you questioning my leadership, Private?” Skipper asked.
“No, sir!” Private said quickly.
“Too bad,” Skipper said. “ ’Cause I respect a soldier with some moxie.”
“Really?” Private asked hopefully. “Then I really think we shouldn’t—”
Skipper held up his flippers. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Dial back the moxie, sass mouth.”
Private pouted, and Skipper ruffled the feathers on Private’s head. “Aw, look at you! Still so adorable.”
Private sighed. Would Skipper ever take him seriously?
Skipper continued with the plan. He motioned to Rico, who tossed him a toy with a spinning clock face. He threw the toy off the roof and ducked back down.
“Fire in the hole!” he yelled.
The toy landed between the two military police officers. The arrow on the clock face stopped spinning and landed on the number eight.
“Eight o’clock. Night-night time!” the toy announced in a mechanical voice.
Pssshhhht! A cloud of knockout gas sprayed from the toy and created a cloud around the two policemen. They dropped to the ground, unconscious.
After the gas thinned out, the penguins dropped down in front of the entrance. Private looked around nervously.
“Private! Come on!” Skipper hissed.
Inside the entry hall, more guards patrolled. But Skipper had it figured out. A black-and-white loading dock crossed over the entrance. The penguins used natural camouflage to pass over it. They lay belly-up on the white tiles, so their white bellies blended in. On the black tiles, they flipped facedown. The guards didn’t notice them and they quickly reached the door of the vault.
“Please enter the passcode,” a smooth computer voice instructed.
“Kowalski, you’re on,” Skipper said.
“Please enter the passcode.”
Holding out a flipper, Kowalski turned to Rico. “Sonic incursion device.”
Rico coughed up a cassette tape recorder into Kowalski’s flipper. He held it up to the speaker’s electronic lock and pressed play. A fiddle tune erupted from the speaker.
Skipper raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. Really?”
“We’re in Kentucky, Skipper,” Kowalski reminded him. “They do love their fiddle music.”
Clunking sounds came from the massive vault lock as it started to open. “Y’all come in now, ya hear? Get yourself an iced tea,” the computer voice said. The doors
opened, bathing them in golden light. Skipper entered first, leading the crew into a majestic space filled with rows and rows of golden bricks.
“Private, if you could have anything you wanted in the whole world, what would it be?” Skipper asked him.
“Well, gee, Skipper,” Private said thoughtfully. “I think to be a meaningful and valued member of the team.”
“Oh,” Skipper said. “Well, we got you something else.”
He led them past the gold into the Fort Knox break room and stopped in front of a huge vending machine.
“A vending machine?” Private asked.
“Not just any vending machine, Private,” Skipper told him. “The last remaining home for those succulent but chemically hazardous bits of puffed heaven called . . .”
Private’s eyes got wide as he noticed the packages inside the machine, glowing under the fluorescent light.
“Cheezy Dibbles!” he cried happily.
Skipper held up a coin. “Happy ding-dong birthday, ya little scamp.”
Private took the coin, squealed with delight, and planted a grateful kiss on Skipper’s cheek. Then he squeezed Kowalski in a bear hug before rushing over to Rico. Rico picked him up and planted a kiss right on his beak.
“Now hit that machine and get your present!” Skipper ordered Private.
Private giddily waddled up to the machine and made his selection. Skipper turned to face Kowalski and Rico.
“We just broke into the most secure facility in North America. Do you know what that means?” he asked.
“We’re wanted criminals who’ll be on the lam for the rest of our lives, always feeling the hot breath of Johnny Law on our necks?” Kowalski asked.
“No!” Skipper replied. “It means that as elite units go, we’re the elite-est of the elite. Top shelf in the bureau. The penultimate . . . plus one!”
Behind him, the bag of Cheezy Dibbles slid off the spiral rack. Just as it fell, two long octopus tentacles snaked out of the machine! They grabbed Private and sucked him inside!
Skipper turned around to address Private—but he was gone.
“Where’d Private go?” Skipper asked.
They approached the machine and saw Private trapped inside.