He had awoken from his dreamless nap. He dug a fish out of a package in the dimly-lit food storage room and sat down on one of the boxes to eat it. Its grey flesh hadn't started to go bad yet, in fact it was still fresh enough for even a human to eat, but it was closer to room temperature than he would have liked. He licked a loose fish scale off his flipper, then regretted it. His feathers were filthy. Tasting dirt on his tongue, he made a mental note to bathe in Central Park's lake after sundown (and keep an eye out for wild freshwater fish while he was at it).

The time was now ten to five. At half-past, he needed to leave to sabotage the machine, which would bring the scientist out of the park. That gave him another forty minutes to prepare himself for the trip out. He took a deep breath - he had begun to feel pretty nervous about the upcoming mission. It was low-risk, but as with any plan, any number of things could go wrong. And if they captured him without giving him a chance to explain himself...

Private wondered if Skipper had meant what he said to the group topside, after he had found Private in the alcove. An execution... Surely Skipper wouldn't have gone through with it? He was probably just really mad at the time - as angry as Private had been afraid. They all knew how quickly their leader could jump to conclusions, and it was usually the worst-case scenario when he did. The execution of his youngest subordinate would have seemed plausible to both of them at the time; now, however, after Skipper had considered it, imprisonment was probably more likely.

Private began knocking his heel against the box he was using as a seat.

He thought about the letters he had translated... the one addressed to Kowalski, especially.

In all the time he had spent with the unit in Central Park Zoo, it had never occurred to him that there might be a secret reason for their military presence, unbeknown to him. He thought they were there to keep the animals safe and to monitor the area. But according to the letter he had translated, their real mission there was to ensure the Manhattan district was kept under close watch.

Because below Manhattan, hidden in the ground, there was enough explosive material to destroy half of New York City.

Private felt another twinge of worry in his stomach. So far, Skipper had managed to keep the explosives under the control of their own side. But the material hadn't been removed.

That meant one thing: at some point, the force his unit were a part of - the good side, so Private had always unwaveringly believed - were planning to detonate the bomb.

Of course, if they did, it was going to be as a last-ditch weapon only. For the greater good of the people and animals. Surely?

His gaze fell upon the wad of wired-up C4 in the corner. He shuddered. He had no idea why he hadn't just left it behind. The last thing he wanted in his base was more explosive material.

But that didn't really matter now. It was irrelevant that beneath his feet there were tonnes of explosives - and if it was one of those if-I-told-you-I'd-have-to-kill-you scenarios when he returned, he could always pretend he hadn't discovered that particular letter to dodge trouble. What he needed to focus on now was establishing a form of communication with Kowalski.

His nerves were getting to him. The risk of this mission now seemed medium, not low. He would be getting pretty close to his unit in a closed environment filled with electrical safety hazards and machinery. Getting there through the city would also be risky. But people are for the most part easily evaded, he reminded himself. And if he was careful and kept his wits about him he'd have little to worry about.

He checked the time. Half an hour until he had to set off.

He pulled out another defrosting chunk of fish - this one was the tail half of a small herring - and planned out his route as he ate.


With the rucksack firmly secured in place, he switched off the lamp and started up the dark tunnel that led to the outside.

It was getting darker out now, and as Private crept out of the mouth of the tunnel, blinking, as his eyes adjusted to the light he saw the sky was orange. Usually at this time of day he would be finishing off afternoon training with the unit, perhaps running laps around the habitats or swimming in formation.

Private looked longingly in the direction of the zoo. He may never do those things with them again. If it wasn't for his own damned curiosity, he'd be back in the penguin habitat with them, on their side, doing their missions. He cursed his past self for his stupidity.

Private tried to focus. He couldn't stand out in the open feeling sorry for himself.

He could see the zoo entrance, a distance away through the trees. The substation was past the zoo, on the edge of the city. Private knew it was too risky to travel close to the zoo - defenses were likely to be far more powerful than before, and Private would have been surprised if they hadn't posted a round-the-clock lookout. Walking around the borders of the park was likely to be safer.

Private turned and headed parallel to it, towards the city. He didn't have a map of the city itself, but he was sure he didn't need one - he could find the substation if he kept the trees of the park in sight.

The trees here grew close together, and it was easy to stay by the shaded roots for cover. Private reckoned he would be difficult to spot from most angles, and besides, he was too far away from the zoo for there to be anyone looking out for him.

He stepped off the grass and onto the concrete of the city without being seen by anybody. Pedestrians milled about around him, unaware of his presence. One good thing about humans was they never seemed to look around. Private readjusted the straps of his rucksack before setting off down the path.

His feet were quiet on the concrete, but a glance downwards showed him that his foot-wraps were becoming tattered. He had replacements, but he was surprised the cloth had worn out so quickly. Maybe he needed to start thinking about obtaining some better footwear.

He walked on, keeping out of sight of more alert-looking people, for the most part ignored by the residents of the concrete jungle. No humans had spotted him yet. He passed the occasional cat or dog or bird who looked at him strangely, but Private didn't think any of them were aware of the 'traitor' story. Barely any city animals were in correspondence with Central Park Zoo's residents. There wasn't really a risk of his presence being reported to Skipper, so he didn't bother to sneak past the animals.

The traffic in New York was at a standstill. Horns blared on every road and Private could hear muffled shouts as trapped commuters yelled at the traffic from inside their cars. The noise was all around him and it was a little deafening. He could barely hear his own thoughts. He smiled. What a silly phrase that was. You didn't have to hear your own thoughts to understand them, thoughts were understood on another level. It was such a strange saying.

He dashed over a side road at one point. The cars were stationary but he didn't dally.

Private looked for the grey breeze-blocks of the substation amongst the buildings. He knew it was around here somewhere, a one-storey industrial-looking building, crouching between two high-risers, dank and plain with wires sprouting from its roof. It had to be on this street somewhere.

He passed between two buildings, so that he was close to the edges of the park. He remembered how the substation backed onto the grass. From the grass was where his way in was, that hidden entrance his unit never used and probably didn't remember. The building had to be around here somewhere-

He spotted it. Private dashed over to the gap between the two cinder-blocks and crawled his way inside, swatting aside cobwebs so thick they looked like curtains. He emerged behind a small pile of waste blocks and stepped into the room.

It was plain, just cinder-block walls and a concrete floor, and with three tall metal pillars in the middle of the room with fuseboxes and controls inside. Thick black cables ran from these boxes into the ceiling. There was a side room (without a door) containing a bank of electronics Kowalski always liked to look at. That was where he would stash the walkie-talkie. From where he was stood now, he could see the small skylight window the team often used as an entrance, and the loose block by the heavy steel door. They would use one of those two.

Private took off the rucksack and opened it. He dug out the walkie-talkie he planned to stash. He had tested them before he had set off and had found them in perfect working order, so no problems there. He took it into the side room and twiddled the volume dial down to its second-quietest setting before placing it just out of sight. He didn't want to risk Skipper and Rico hearing his message and finding the walkie-talkie, too.

He fastened the pack closed and put it back on. He turned to the pillars. The one closest to him was the box they were getting their power from. He strode over to it and swung open the side cover, exposing many wires, dials and fuses. He twisted a few low dials back and forth, trying to leave them in the position they found them in so the team wouldn't be suspicious later. There was a buzzing noise and a few sparks as thin wires melted and detached inside little tubes. Leaving the controls as he found them, Private closed the box and hid behind the pike of waste concrete bricks. They wouldn't find him there. He settled down to wait for them to arrive.


About five minutes had passed when Private heard quiet footsteps on the roof of the building. He could only hear one penguin - had Kowalski come alone? - and as he peeked around the huge bricks he saw only one penguin drop down from the open skylight, clutching a box under his flipper. Private inwardly groaned in disappointment. It was Skipper.

Evidently Kowalski had some work to do, and the leader had come alone. Private watched as Skipper opened the box he was carrying and rifled through dozens of fuses. Private cursed his bad luck. This could have been the perfect way to talk to Kowalski, but now an opportunity, and his time, had been entirely wasted.

Private sneaked out through the hidden gap in the wall as quietly as he could, and set off back the way he came. He swept the dust of his belly and wished for the thousandth time that he could have a shower.

He had left the walkie-talkie behind, but causing power issues again anytime soon was out of the question - it would be very suspicious and, as he had known while planning this failed mission, he couldn't talk to Kowalski if they were on edge, even if he did come the next time.

Private walked back to his base, mostly backtracking through the streets he had used before. There were fewer pedestrians now, and the traffic moved - slowly, jerkily, but it was moving - along the roads. Private plodded along, feeling annoyed at Skipper's solitary presence at the substation, and frustrated that such a great plan had gone out the window; he would have to think of a whole new way of getting Kowalski to come out and play. He adjusted one of the rucksack's straps and frowned to himself.

Private had barely reached halfway on his path back to base when the skies opened.

Angled droplets of rain hit his body, lifting off some of the dirt and grime as the liquid beaded down his waterproof plumage. He barely felt the water or the drop in temperature but he hunched his shoulders and quickened his pace.

The wind was suddenly strong, picking up litter and tossing it around the air. A plastic bag just missed his head, carried by the wind, and loose sheets of newspaper whirled around the street until the rain turned them to sodden clumps on the ground. He felt the wind ruffle his feathers, letting occasional droplets of rain through his waterproof coat. He shuddered uncomfortably.

Hurrying home now, he almost ran down the edge of the park until he recognised a closely-planted group of trees. He used them again, this time to enter the park without being noticed, and he ran full-pelt until he reached home.

He threw his dripping body into the hole, out of the rain, and he relaxed.

The warren (or den) had been dug well, so that no rainwater flowed down the tunnel. He emerged into the dry, dark room and switched on the lamp. Suddenly it occurred to him that if he kept his light on after dark, the glow in the tunnel would be observable from outside. He needed something to cover the doorway with if he was planning to keep the light on.

He took off the sopping-wet backpack, very grateful for its plastic inside covering that kept its insides dry. He hoped there wasn't a split in it as he turned off the lamp. He decided to rest for a while, then go out again and bathe in the lake. The rain had washed him a little but he still felt covered in filth. And while he bathed, he could look for fresh fish.

Private maneuvered himself through the dark room to his bed and sat down on the floor next to it, leaning his shoulders against the wall while he waited for the rain to stop.