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There are moments when even those without so much as a single psychically active cell remaining in their bodies can know things, and this was one of them. As Ray shivered a little at the sight of poor Gedney's body, its neck frozen stiffly at an unnatural angle, it became abundantly clear: something, he didn't know what, had happened here that was enough to end his obligation to the Old Ones. He gestured to Danforth quickly to pull the tarpaulin back over the corpse. Danforth didn't look right at all- not that anybody could be expected to under the circumstances, but Danforth had the look of a frog about to be pithed. The less he had to deal with, the better; he was only along because he was the only pilot of the three of them, and refused (quite sensibly) to be left all alone with the plane. "Well," Ray said carefully, "unless I'm... really mistaken, it was an accident, at least? I mean, it doesn't look like anything was deliberately-"

"Shut up, Stantz," said Dyer. The old professor's nerves were wound as tight as guitar strings, a side-effect of long listening for the bizarre musical piping mentioned in Lake's report. "We need, I think, to- what was that?"

"What was what?" Ray asked, looking up swiftly; but then he heard it too. Not the fabulous note of any buried blasphemy of elder earth from whose supernal toughness an age-denied polar sun had evoked a monstrous response, but a thing too mockingly normal to belong in this subterranean, frozen hell. It was nothing more and nothing less than the perfect, ordinary, everyday raucous squawking of a penguin.

The muffled sound floated from subglacial recesses nearly opposite to the corridor through which they had arrived. Either it led in some way to the surface and the outer world, or some fate too dreadful to believe had led the birds to the subterranean depths in times past; and either way, it was mutually agreed that they had to track it to its source through that world of age-long, uniform lifelessness. The Old Ones seemed unlikely to be of any assistance now. To judge by the art in the caverns above they were too careful, too deliberate, to have abandoned the body without some sign unless there were a very great reason to have done so.

As they picked their way towards what the map and compass seemed to indicate was the basement of a large pyramidal structure, a bulky white shape loomed up ahead of them. Danforth swore and flicked on the second electrical torch. The white, waddling thing was fully six feet high, and for a moment its incalculable appearance clutched at all three men with an unreasoned, primitive dread. Then it turned and sidled off to the left, joining two others of its kind, and all became clear: penguins, the lot of them. Man-sized, and albino and eyeless as many an ancient cave species had come to be, but penguins nonetheless.

Ray lay one arm against the tunnel wall before banging his head on his sleeve. This place was getting to him.

Date: 2007-11-03 10:14 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
Then there came a sound, another sound, a sound different than the one from before. It was not the raucous squawking of a penguin.

It was the squealing wail of a very distressed penguin coming from roughly a foot above the ground and accompanied by a noise that could only be described as

Tap dancing?

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

And the facehugger had Ray Stantz.

Good thing it wasn't the one from Alien. Just a very very very distressed penguin chick, normal sized and colored normally, his little feet fluttering in the air in a distinctive pattern.

Date: 2007-11-03 10:21 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
Penguins do not speak human. The only reason why anyone can understand Mumble in the bar is the bar's universal translator.

But Ray has another translator. Luckily.

"They're mean and they're scary and they're nasty and they're big and they talk funny and they said they were gonna take me to this thing that they were talking about only it sounded horrible and they're not really penguins even if they are penguins and I don't like them and they have funny eyes and I'm hungry and it's scary and I wanna go home to my Momma!"

Date: 2007-11-03 10:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
"OF COURSE IT IS RAY RAY RAY RAY RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

And the penguin is clinging and--

Yes, crying.

He's only a little chick, after all, and he's been sent away from his mother and his father, his friends, everything that he's ever known and ever seen and dropped in the middle of a group of strange, giant, scary albino eyeless penguins.

"I w-w-w-w-wanna go hoooooome. I m-m-m-m-miss my M-m-m-momma and my D-d-daddy!"

Date: 2007-11-03 10:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
He sniffs and shakes off some of his tears before nodding up at Ray.

"O-o-o-okay."

And he gives Ray another fluffy hug, not wanting to let go of the one person who's familiar and nice and has eyes.

Date: 2007-11-03 11:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
"T-t-they were s-saying there were these things, these hoooooooooooribble things that like to--"

He looks confounded for a moment.

"S'a word I can't say. They had f-funny a-accents. Not Penguin at all. Not like home, anyway."

Date: 2007-11-03 11:29 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
The little penguin looks up at Ray.

"W-w-w-why are you here? W-why are w-we here?"

Date: 2007-11-03 11:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
There's a blink.

"A-a-actually, I was w-w-wondering why you and all these p-p-people are up here where it's cold and scary and full of bad things?"

Date: 2007-11-03 11:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
"Oh," says the penguin before cuddling up against Ray's chest.

Date: 2007-11-04 12:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
"Saw'm already," Mumble says sadly as he lifts himself past Ray's hand. But he only looks for a second before turning around to bury his little face carefully against Ray's coat. It's fluffy enough that it almost feels like hiding with Daddy.

Almost.

Date: 2007-11-04 12:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
"I c-c-could be w-wrong c-c-c-cause they speak all f-f-funny, but I t-think the j-j-j-jist of what they're saying is

"RUN RUN FOR THE LOVE OF THE GREAT GUIN AND ALL THAT IS HOLY AND GOOD RUN. RUN LIKE THE SEAL HIMSELF IS AFTER YOU!!!!!"

He looks up at Ray.

"L-l-least I t-t-think so."

Date: 2007-11-04 01:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
"I'm n-n-not letting go!"

That's as far as it goes for the penguin.

Date: 2007-11-04 01:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
The penguin makes a noise, a great shrieking squeal that makes a few of the icicles quiver. Little blue eyes notice, though, and he looks up at Ray.

"R-r-r-ray? P-p-put me down an' c-c-cover your e-e-ears! I h-h-h-have an idea!"

Date: 2007-11-04 01:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] happy-footed.livejournal.com
Mumble tries not to look at the thing that's coming through the caves, the scary scary thinghecan'trememberthenameof that the big penguins told him about. Instead, he looks inside, reaches in and finds his heartsong...

And forces it through his voice. His feet don't move, but his beak opens and a noise comes out the likes of which The Likes Of Which that are coming have never heard either.

Somewhere in there is "la la la la la la" but most of it is the kind of noise that you'd describe as "the cats of Hell itself having their tails stepped on by giant screeching cockroaches synthesized through three rocs and a constipated rooster".

Either way, the ice trembles for a moment before the majority of the cave ceiling breaks of and crashes down on top of the Whatever It Is Great Guin I'll Eat All My Fish Even The Tails I Promise Just Don't Make Me Look At It.

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Raymond Stantz

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