This is the sequel to the story Behind Enemy Lines. In the last story, I focused on Kowalski and Blowhole's friendship (I'm still going to do a lot on that) but this story will concentrate mostly on Skipper's obsession with capturing Blowhole, Blowhole's obsession with getting revenge on Skipper, and the lengths they will go to achieve their goals.
Private Michaels was on watch. Iceberg Pass was one of the Penguins' key Maguffium processing plants, one of the best guarded too. Nothing ever happened there. Suddenly, the young technician was snapped out of his boredom when a series of impossible readings flashing across the screen.
"Sir?" Michaels called his superior, pointing at the object on the screen. It showed something, according to the instruments, the size of a car, approaching the coast underwater, faster than any submarine could possibly travel. It was also incredibly radioactive, the readings almost off the charts. The superior scrutinised the screen. The object was getting closer at an alarming rate.
"Must be a technical error. Nothing can travel that fast." The superior replied. The unidentified underwater object was almost directly under the base, traveling through the underground rivers as if it had a mind of its own.
"Sir, I don't think…" suddenly the entire base exploded, dark purple Maguffium flames burning, even through the ice of the arctic base. By the time the rescue team arrived, there were no survivors.
"Blowhole's been selling arms to the Squirrels," Rockgut stated.
"I thought Blowhole hated the Squirrels?" Skipper questioned. The two penguins were alone inside the HQ; Skipper had told the others to get snow cones.
"Now he hates us," the expression on his face told Skipper that asking why would only give him the answer: classified, "The Squirrels now have all kinds of high tech Maguffium weaponry based on designs created by the actual inventors."
"Didn't the Squirrels beat us to the Maguffium weaponry back at the start of the war?" Skipper asked, "Blowhole didn't know how to react the Maguffium and fuel cells; they couldn't have gotten the information out of him."
"They received the technology from… other sources," Skipper's eyes shifted uncomfortably to the table. He really shouldn't have asked about that, "The point is, Blowhole, and your lieutenant, are the foremost authorities on Maguffium weapons. We can't let the Squirrels get their hands on either of them. I want Blowhole on our side. With his access to classified Squirrel plans, he'd make an excellent double agent. If you can bring him back to the HQ…"
"Well, sir, our team's tried many times before, but…"
"You've failed to catch him," Rockgut handed him an official looking typed sheet of paper: his orders, "I've had my best strategists go over the case." Skipper sped read through the document. Half way through he looked up, an expression of complete surprise on his face.
"What the tongue tied mackerel?!"
"What was that cupcake?" Rockgut asked.
"Blowhole…"
"After studying the data the analysts found a pattern of recurring supposed 'technical malfunctions'. Too many to be a coincidence."
"But Blowhole still sees Kowalski as a friend?… he's trying got get Kowalski to turn on the Penguins?"
"It seems logical. The percentage of times Blowhole has separated a prisoner from the rest, often taking them to another room supposedly for 'interrogation', has been distinctly weighted towards Kowalski."
"Kowalski wouldn't…"
"No, as far as we know, Kowalski still sees him as an adversary."
"Here are your orders," Skipper handed Kowalski the piece of paper he had been given by his superior. Upon sighting the title, Kowalski noticeably blanched, "Is something wrong, Kowalski?"
"No, Skipper." Kowalski continued through the document, his grip on the paper increasing until the paper began to crumple. Finally, he reached the end of the document, "You aren't serious…"
"Of course I am," skipper's expression became puzzled, "Those are the special orders directly from Rockgut."
"I…" Kowalski knew he could possibly destroy his career, not to mention have his 'cover' blown, but he couldn't carry out the orders, "I think I may have a conflict of interest. I have to turn down the mission."
"I'd have thought you'd want to recapture Blowhole?" Skipper asked, "after all, after too many refusals, he may simply kill you…"
"Blowhole would never even think of doing that!" Kowalski snapped, though immediately regretted his words, which were practically an admission of guilt.
"Kowalski…"
"Dammit, Skipper," Kowalski slapped himself across the face, "Well, I guess you were going to have to find out some day."
"You aren't…"
"Pythagoras theorem, no, I'm not a spy," Kowalski's wing clenched into a nervous fist as he tried not to remember what the punishment for consorting with the enemy was, "Those times he'd separate me from the group supposedly to torture me as revenge for locking him up, we were in the lab. Working on projects, just for fun. Skipper… I'm sorry, but he's not the villain you think he is."
"So, despite the fact your friendship nearly led you to your death…"
"That wasn't what happened in Philadelphia."
"… You insist on repeating your mistakes, trying to remain friends with the enemy. Great Hoover Dam, you do have a conflict of interest!" skipper screamed. Skipper took another look at the partially crumpled piece of paper in Kowalski's wing. He took a deep breath, before continuing, "Well, Kowalski. Looks like now you get to decide: the Penguins, or Blowhole."
"Blowhole is not an enemy, he's not even a threat, Doris is the…"
"So you keep telling me. He's selling Maguffium weapons to the Squirrels, using my company for mackerel's sake!"
"He would never work with the Squirrels!"
"WELL HE IS!" skipper shouted. Kowalski had never seen him that angry before, "Now, Kowalski, I'm ordering you to go through with the plan."
"And I won't. I'm still a Penguin, Skipper. That will never change, but I won't go through with this."
"Kowalski?" Blowhole looked up from the table, his face turning from one of greeting to concern in a matter of seconds. Kowalski looked behind him before taking his seat at the table in the café just outside the Bronx zoo. Blowhole had already ordered Kowalski's coffee, timing it to arrive precisely thirty seconds before Kowalski arrived, one of the dolphin's obsessions being never wasting time. Kowalski always arrived precisely on time, so this was a good arrangement.
"Kowalski, what's going on?" Blowhole had meant to discuss his own, previously major, problem, but saw whatever was troubling his friend was urgent.
"I don't have much time…" Suddenly Kowalski stopped, looking around him again as if he might be being followed.
"If something's wrong…"
"Skipper's lost it. He ordered me to," Kowalski picked up his coffee, swallowing half of it in one gulp, "He ordered me to…" Suddenly Kowalski's eyes lost focus. He tried to stand up, though immediately fell back into his chair.
"Kowalski?"
"Blowhole, I…" Kowalski collapsed forward onto the table.
"Kowalski, what's wrong!" Blowhole began to panic. He recognised the symptoms all too well. Immediately he checked the penguin's pulse. Dead. Poisoned.