Episode 4: Ice Ice Baby
Part 1
Deep in the Antarctic circle, beyond the place where the Southern Ocean meets the South Pacific, flows the Ross Sea. Its frigid waters lap against the icy coast of Antarctica, and the Ross ice shelf floats on top, blocking off an otherwise gaping inlet.
The cliffs at the edge of the ice shelf, the largest on the continent, are normally quite barren. But on that particular day, a lone penguin lurked at the precipice, a mere black dot against the gray horizon from the view of an approaching ship.
And there was a ship approaching.
It, too, was only a speck on the horizon from the view of the rockhopper, and at first, the creature merely stood there, studying it through narrowed, red eyes. The penguin didn’t look away until a weak ray of sunlight caught the steel gray hull of the ship, giving it a metallic gleam. Its eyes, far keener underwater than above land, could not yet decipher the four initials stenciled on the side, but it had seen enough. This was the ship it had been waiting for.
Without further delay, the penguin waddled to the very edge of the cliff on which it stood. Inches away from toppling over the side, it suddenly threw back its head and let out three very distinct, shrill squawks.
Fifteen meters below, from its perch on a floating pancake of ice at the base of the shelf, a second rockhopper responded, sounding two cries of its own. Then it plunged headfirst into the freezing water.
Like a small torpedo, the penguin streaked through the sea. Ahead of it loomed the massive form of an iceberg, its craggy bottom jutting miles below the surface into the cold, black waters. But the penguin went the opposite direction. It powered up to the surface and poked its strangely crested head above the waterline.
Seemingly unintimidated by the mountain of ice towering over it, it swam straight up to the berg. Bobbing in front of a spot where the ice seemed to have cracked in an elliptical shape, the penguin tapped its beak three times against the frozen exterior.
The ice began to move at once, giving way from the rest of the berg as it swung in to reveal an opening. The penguin scrambled inside, and the ice door shut again almost immediately, camouflaging itself in the berg once more.
A pair of hands reached down to scoop up the penguin. The rockhopper melted into the arms of a man whose black and white braided hair sort of resembled its own spiky, yellow crest. The odd-looking pair moved swiftly through a network of vaulted, glimmering hallways, all carved out of the ice, to a chamber with a tall, arched door. The man knocked sharply on the door, and a voice from within called out dramatically, “Enter!”
In they went, finding themselves in an impressive chamber where nature met modern technology and luxury. Though made of ice, this lair held all of the comforts of home. The colossal bed was piled with many down pillows and plush blankets, all in deep purple. The large, wrap-around desk boasted the biggest executive chair the man (not to mention the penguin) had ever seen. Heavy coats, warm furs, fleece pullovers, and cozy sweaters filled the walk-in closet. A large, polar bear skin rug lay splayed over the ice floor, and a series of TV screens were rigged inside the thick ice walls. Each one showed a different view from the surveillance cameras positioned all around the ice fortress and the FANS base in the swamps of Florida.
The man with the braids shivered as he put down the wet penguin. Oh, how he wished he could be back in the hot, humid Everglades. Even with its comforts, it was always chilly inside Dr. Rough’s ice fortress. Still, he knew he was here for a noble reason and was glad to have been chosen as one of the agents his master trusted most to join him here for this most important undertaking.
Standing just inside the doorway, he cleared his throat. “Dr. Rough, one of your scouts has returned to tell us the Russian ship is in sight.”
The executive chair swung slowly around to reveal a small man whose head had been invisible behind the tall back of the chair. “Excellent.” He smiled, his large white teeth gleaming, and pressed the tips of his fingers together sinisterly. “Thank you, Chris Kirkpatrick.”
“At your service, Dr. Rough,” answered Chris with a little bow, but Dr. Rough was no longer looking at him.
Reaching out both hands, he made his voice go high and sweet as he called out, “Come here, Michael Jackson! Who’s Dr. Rough-Rough’s good little spy?”
The penguin let out a cheerful squawk and skidded across the floor to its master. Dr. Rough picked it up and tickled it playfully under its beak. “Such a good, smart boy, Michael Jackson, yes you are!” he cooed.
Chris blinked, watching the evil genius he idolized so much coddle the penguin as if it were his own child. “Why did you name that one Michael Jackson?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“Because he’s both black and white and does the moonwalk,” answered Dr. Rough matter-of-factly without looking up at Chris. “Come on, Michael Jackson, let’s do the moonwalk!” he commanded the penguin. The rockhopper instantly shot up and out of his arms, landing on the smooth ice floor. Chris watched in amusement as the animal started to glide backward, performing a perfect penguin moonwalk.
“Amazing, isn’t he?” said Dr. Rough with a smug smile as he patted the penguin on its crested head. “Good boy, Michael Jackson, well done.”
Momentarily distracted by the penguin antics, Chris suddenly remembered the reason he was there and said, “Dr. Rough, the ship must be getting close by now.”
A look of alarm flickered on Dr. Rough’s face, and he stood up abruptly, the penguin hopping out of his way. “Of course. I’ll go to meet it.”
“Should… should I go with you, sir?” asked Chris hopefully, but Dr. Rough ignored the request.
“Take Michael Jackson back to the penguin paddock,” he ordered. “I’ll see to it myself. Come, Dr. Twitches!”
Dr. Rough’s favorite minion poked his head out of his small, purple padded bed and slinked over to his master. Dr. Rough knelt down, allowed the ferret to climb onto his shoulders, and left the chamber without a word, Dr. Twitches draped happily around his neck.
Watching them go, Chris sighed. “Well, come on, MJ,” he said glumly and beckoned to the penguin, who waddled obediently out of the room after him.
***
Dr. Rough strode through the hallways of his fortress with purpose, emerging on a different side of the berg, where he’d designed a large loading dock. Several more of his agents waited there, where he’d stationed them, ready to help unload the special “shipment” they were about to receive.
“Fischetti, Timmons, let down the ramp,” he commanded. The pair of minions scrambled to their places on either side of the dock, powering two large cranks that slowly lowered a large slab of ice from the side of the berg and extended it outward into the water so that it formed a bridge from the sea into the fortress.
As they did so, the ship appeared. It was big but unremarkable, except for that it flew the Russian flag and had the letters t.A.T.u. stenciled on the side of the hull. A triumphant smile spread across Dr. Rough’s face as he watched the ship glide slowly through the ice-strewn waters to dock at the ramp.
“Go help tie them off!” he commanded his minions.
“Yes, Dr. Rough. Right away, Dr. Rough,” replied the well-trained agents, Brad Fischetti and Jeff Timmons. Both were well-built, suitable for tasks that required manual labor. They slid down the ice ramp and waited for the ship to pull up, then caught the ropes that were tossed down and tied them tightly to a couple of metal posts embedded in the corners of the ramp to anchor the vessel in place.
Tucking Dr. Twitches into the warmth of his fur-lined purple parka, Dr. Rough strode down the ramp to meet the ship’s commanders. They emerged a few moments later, climbing carefully down a steep set of metal steps. Once they planted their feet firmly on the ramp, they joined hands and turned to face the three men awaiting them.
Dr. Rough couldn’t help but smile again as he drank in the sight of his two newest allies. They were both beautiful young women, equally gorgeous, though in different ways. The taller of the two was curvy beneath her quilted winter gear. She had fair, porcelain skin, large blue eyes, and long, auburn hair that cascaded down her shoulders in tight curls. Her partner was petite and dark, with tanned skin, brown eyes, and short, spiky black hair.
“Ahh, ladies,” said Dr. Rough warmly, turning on the old Dorough charm. “Welcome to my humble ice fortress.” He turned and gestured to the towering iceberg behind him before returning his attention to the women. “You must be Lena and Yulia. And I am Dr. Rough.”
“Lena,” said the redhead coolly, stepping forward to shake his hand. “And zis iz Yulia.”
Dr. Rough took her hand but raised it to his lips and kissed it instead of shaking. He did the same with Yulia. The two girls smiled, though the smiles did not quite reach their eyes.
Clearing his throat, Dr. Rough decided to get down to business. “Well,” he said brusquely, “I assume you have the weapon we spoke of?”
“Of course,” answered Lena. “Ve have it here in ze cargo hold.”
“Excellent. Let me just have my agents here help unload it, and then we can head inside for some hot cocoa.”
Lena nodded and said something to Yulia in Russian. A moment later, Yulia spoke. “Vith vodka?” she asked hopefully.
Dr. Rough blinked. “Pardon?”
“Yulia prefers her cocoa vith vodka,” explained Lena in less-broken English.
“Ahh… of course, of course. Yes, I think we can manage that, can’t we, Dr. Twitches?” Dr. Rough reached into his coat to stroke the head of his ferret, and Dr. Twitches chattered happily in response.
Meanwhile, Fischetti and Timmons were already sliding open the door to the cargo hold. Looking past the two women, Dr. Rough set his sights upon something even more beautiful: the weapon they had smuggled to him.
His eye began to twitch with anticipation.
***