The Speed of Darkness
Chapter 33 – Lamentation

HE HAD HOPED THE PAIN WOULD SUBSIDE.

It didn't. He lay there, mouth agape. He couldn't move anything. Each time he tried to inch his flippers off of the cold planks below him, sharp pains would shoot through his head and travel down his spine. It was like the electrical impulses themselves were scorching his nerves. Not to long ago he had tried his best to move his right flipper far enough to get it off of chest. The action was excruciating. His muscles burned and his head felt like it was going to explode. It wasn't until a strange numbness overtook his flipper did he stop. A few moments later he realized that, despite all his effort, it was still resting flat on his chest.

So he just laid there. He honestly did not know what would happen as a result of the shock he forced upon himself. Ever since his transformation, he had been reminded of how much electricity was a threat to him. The thought of it coursing, unhindered through his circuits, destroying resistors and blowing up voltage regulators on the way quite scared him. It was a sacrifice he needed to make, though. If he hadn't have used himself as the bridge to hot wire the boat, they would have lost his target long ago.

As he laid there, he listened intently with his senses. His vision was gone... or mostly gone. Now, all he saw was a dim, flashing red light. It seemed to be coming from the back of his skull. Each time it flashed, however, he was able to make out a blurry, dark scene. It was like watching a very slow slide show of pictures. However, the rest of his senses seemed to have increased in sensitivity exponentially.

He could taste the salt from the ocean on his tongue. He felt the cool breeze blow through his feathers. He could hear the sounds of the waves lapping up against the boat, the whistling of the wind through the cracked windshield. He heard the slightest creak of the rotten boards underneath him. He even heard a squeak of a rat he could have sworn was a deck below him. Of course he could hear all of the conversations around him.

"Ringtail!" he heard Skipper shout. He sounded angry. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you he wouldn't be happy to see you," scoffed Marlene.

"You see, penguin, de king was hoping to use his kingly skills in de combat and stuff to help in your quest," replied the lanky lemur. The immobile penguin's vision flashed, though nobody was within his field of view.

"Fish and chips, I told you to go back to the zoo with Phil! Phil isn't here too, is he?"

He heard a shifting of fur, like Julien was shaking his head. "He was telling me dat he was okay to find his own way back through de sewers, and dat I should be accompanying you on your adventure."

"This isn't an adventure, Ringtail. It's a matter of life and death." Skipper replied solemnly. "You made a mistake coming on this boat."

"Pfft," Julien said, and the immobile penguin imagined him shaking his hands towards Skipper, "Life and death, eh? No big deal. You see, de king is a master of both of these things, and..."

He heard the lemur trail off and a sudden sound of grunting. There was a brief struggle before he could hear Julien choking. His vision flashed, and he got a glimpse of Skipper lifting the lemur fully off the ground a few inches, while holding his throat tightly with both flippers. Julien was kicking wildly and attempting to pry the penguin's flippers from his throat.

"This isn't a game, Julien," growled the flat-headed penguin through a clenched beak. "I'm talking about the lives of real animals, real people. You try to watch their lives end before their time is up, while there is nothing you can do about it. You shoot the soldier you once knew as a friend because if you don't, he shoots you first. Then you talk to me about life and death!"

The penguin's vision flashed, and he caught a glimpse of Marlene now joined in with Julien's effort to remove Skipper's iron grip from his throat.

"Skipper, you're choking him!" pleaded the Otter.

The penguin heard Julien drop to the floor, sputtering wildly for breath. The robot penguin then heard the leader-penguin jump back onto his perch atop the driver's seat.

"You weren't needing to have been strangling me!" said Julien, sounding like he was now mad.

"Yeah, Skipper," agreed Marlene, "that was a little harsh."

Another flash, this time revealing the two mammals standing near the door to the cabin. Julien's hands were still rubbing his throat.

"If you thought that was harsh, then you've got a lot more to worry about in the next few days than just me," said Skipper. "Where we're going, it will be a matter of life and death. Sarge won't stop before he's killed all of us and stolen back the Sun. It's either going to be him or us. I hope you realize that."

The red light now revealed a surprised, nearly scared look on Julien's face. Marlene, however, still looked determined.

"This whole 'adventure' business both of you keep talking about, you need to stop it," continued Skipper. "This isn't some trip through the field, picking posies. We have a real battle on our hands, and since you two were both so willing to join along, you're going to have to help us fight."

One last flash showed the two mammals leaving the cabin, speechless.

That wasn't the only thing he had heard, laying in the prison of his own body and mind, pain preventing him from moving. He heard when Skipper and Rico changed shifts driving the boat. For the few days they had been on the ocean, and from what he could tell, Skipper had been navigating overnight and into the early afternoon, and Rico took over from then until sunset. The long hours of the few days had seemed like it had been taking its toll on Skipper, and from the glimpses he managed to catch of him, he looked tired. Manfredi briefly wondered why Skipper didn't ask for more help in driving the vessel.

There was that other penguin, for instance. Private. He seemed like he would make a great navigator, but Skipper refused to let him touch the wheel of the boat, even when the younger penguin had asked.

"You look awfully tired, Skippah," offered Private as Skipper went to take his shift from Rico. "Would you like some rest tonight? I could drive..."

Private's voice trailed off as if Skipper was already shaking his head in disapproval.

"Negative, soldier," answered Skipper, confirming Manfredi's belief. "Driving a boat through the night is one of the hardest things to do. It would be easy to slip up and make a mistake, and one mistake could cost us Kowalski. If we loose track of Sarge's boat, we could be in big trouble."

"But Skippah," argued the specialist, "We know where Sarge is going. He's going straight to Antarctica, isn't he? All I need to do is point the compass straight south, and..."

"Negative," repeated the leader, more slowly this time.

"You're so tired, though, and we need only go in a straight line." continued the younger penguin. Manfredi suddenly heard Skipper's flipper land a slap across Private's face. Private whimpered.

"What happens if we loose track of Kowalski, and they dump him into the Atlantic? We'd have no chance of finding him then, and he'd drown. Is that what you want?"

"No, Sir," mumbled Private. Manfredi couldn't see him, but it sounded like he was rubbing his face where he was slapped.

"You're not afraid I'm going to push Manfredi off the side of the boat if you rest, are you?" asked Private after a few moments. Skipper didn't respond immediately.

"Why would you do that?" asked the leader.

"I wouldn't. It just seems like you are very protective of him, being your lost lost teammate and all."

"He wasn't just my teammate, Private." said Skipper, sternly. "He was my brother in arms. We fought to save the world together."

The immobile penguin heard a agreeing grunt from the smaller penguin. "Do you think he'll pull through?" he asked, "I mean, its already been three days. He's still not breathing, and he hadn't been able to eat for several days. Don't you think he's going to die of starvation or something soon?"

"It's possible," returned the flat-headed penguin, "but like I said before, he's been through a lot already. After he's lost so much, I seriously doubt he'd want it to end now, right before he gets a chance to confront the one penguin who took it all from him."

That conversation had only been a few hours ago. Private had a point about the paralyzed penguin's health. Manfredi knew he had a built in oxygen supply. It was intertwined with the rest of his robotic parts and was slowly adding oxygen to his bloodstream while he was unable to breath. The hunger was another issue though. It wasn't until recently that he realized he hadn't eaten in weeks. His stomach cramped up, giving him a feeling of emptiness. He wanted to rip out his stomach. He had enough pain to deal with already.

Skipper was right. He had never actually wanted it to end. He knew the risk there was in shocking himself. He just wanted some way to end the pain, even temporarily. His plan backfired, though – now he was in physical pain in addition to the emotional and psychological pains he had been struggling with. The only thing that would relieve him of it was killing his target, he thought. Stabbing him right through the heart.

From what he could tell, it was now dark. Marlene had stopped by a little while ago to drop off some food for Skipper and then left to go to bed. The group hadn't had chance to pack properly for their trip before they left. All the had as a result was a few dozen cans of what looked and smelled like tuna to the robot-penguin. He remembered them being inside of Skipper's backpack. Marlene had said that if they rationed the cans out, they could probably make it to Antarctica, but they would have none left for when they arrived. Skipper said they would be able to fish when they got there, though.

For the first night Skipper had not eaten his tuna. The effect of several days without any nourishment settled in on him though, and on the second night he ate greedily. Manfredi briefly wondered if he was going to eat the entire plate it had been served on. Tonight, though, Skipper did something different with his tuna.

Manfredi heard him hop down from the seat and he walked into his field of vision, holding the tuna in front of him. The smell became very strong, and his stomach wound itself into a knot. He had not eaten in a week and would have devoured the plate if he could have moved.

"Open wide," Skipper said, opening his already open bill a little more open. Skipper proceeded to gently place globs of the pasty tuna in the robotic penguin's mouth. He then tilted the penguin's head back, allowing the sustenance to slide gently down the immobile penguin's throat. Manfredi wondered if this was what it was like to be fed as a baby penguin.

Skipper continued this slow process until most of the tuna was gone. Manfredi was thankful for the food. He wished he could give Skipper some sort of thanks, some sort of feedback to let him know that he was still listening. He tried to move his beak, but it felt as though it exploded and fiery shots of pain pinged throughout his face.

Feeling hopeless, Manfredi watched Skipper eat the last few bites of the tuna. The leader then proceeded to jump back onto his perch and out of the his sight. Manfredi listened intently for any further noise from him, but was only greeted by the whistling of the wind and the purring of the engine. The paralyzed penguin now wished that he had never touched himself with that damn electricity.

He wouldn't let it get the better of him though. Skipper's words with Private earlier had struck him true. He wasn't going to give up now. Not after going through so much. Not after loosing his family. Not after watching Johnson get back stabbed. Not after his travel around the globe, searching for any hint that might lead him to his target. Not after he killed that pigeon in cold blood. It was all too much... too much to be for nothing.

He wanted to see his target's eyes; they would be empty and filled with fear. He wanted to pull the dagger back and watch the crimson blood run off of the blade. He wanted to make all the lives that had been lost because of his target actually mean something.

He could feel a warmness spreading through his body now. Whether it was from his rekindled determination or the tuna in his belly he didn't know. It had almost a disorientating effect though, and he felt dizzy. The boat seemed to be swaying back and forth by a ludicrous amount. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

Concentrating, he tried to move his flipper one more time. To his surprise, it tumbled off his chest and onto the floorboards.