Copyright J.B. Norman
Praetor Pendleton P. Palumbo of the Ledu Security Agency picked the wrong week to cut high-sodium fish paste out of his diet. His wife, Pamela, has been worried about his blood pressure lately and wants him to be around as long as possible for their daughters Patricia, Penelope, and Paisley.
So, being a loving husband and father, Praetor Pendleton agreed to cut his one major vice out of his diet.
But, right now, he would melt all of Ledu with a blowdryer for one bite of sweet, nourishing fish paste.
Kraken Special Squad mercenaries in the Crystal Labyrinth! Civilians trapped inside! An Alvaraean Princess being kidnapped! Firefights breaking out inside on the natural wonders of the galaxy!
And if this goes bad, the Ledu Executive Council — and the Ledu Tourism Board and Ledu Geological Survey — are going to have his tailfeathers on a platter.
“Give me a SitRep,” he quacks to his robotic assistant.
“The Kraken Special Squad has agreed to escort the civilians still inside the Crystal Labyrinth to safety,” the robot answers in Galactic Standard, her appearance and mannerisms designed after a professional female humanoid.
Praetor Pendleton nods. “Well, that solves the most pressing issue,” he admits. “The last thing we need is get some old Eleftherian lady hurt.”
“However,” his assistant continues. “They are refusing to evacuate the Crystal Labyrinth themselves until they have completed their operation.”
“Their operation to kidnap Alvaraean royalty? That operation?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Praetor Pendleton opens his beak to respond, but before he can, he watches as one of his Security officers inches towards the Krakens’ barricades. One of the Kraken operatives peeks up from behind the barricade and fires off a quick stun bolt, causing the Security officer to leap back just in time to narrowly avoid the shot, blinking in silent bemusement at the burnt and melted patch of snow a mere few inches away.
“Private Parker, you fool!” Praetor Pendleton honks at one of his subordinates.
“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your head down and stay out of range!”
“Sorry, Sir,” Parker quacks back. “The wind blew away my hat.”
He snatches up his hat and slinks back to the Security Forces’ line.
“You’re going to get blown away, Parker!”
Praetor Pendleton groans.
“This whole thing is above my paygrade,” he decides. “Patch me through to the Executive Council. I want more men. I want some tanks. I want mechs. I want somebody else to make to call if we need to go in guns blazing inside the most famous thing in this whole sector.”
“Yes, Sir,” the assistant robot says.
“And get me a fish paste sandwich!”
He puts his flippers on the assistant robots shoulders and leans in close, coming eyeball-to-visual processor.
“And in the name of the Ice Princess’ frozen follicles,” he quacks, “I want you to slather so much fish paste on that thing I’ll need to unhinge my jaw like a snake to eat it. And cram as much sodium on that franging thing as possible.”
It’s not that I was really trying to downgrade “Wrong [Time] to Stop [Thing]” from a controlled substance to something family-friendly, so much as that fish paste seems like a completely reasonable thing for a Penguin to overindulge in.
I think I mentioned that I watched the Penguin episode of Spy x Family recently. And, of course, since P is for Penguin in Spy x Family, as in life, all of the penguins on that episode had P-names and that’s been sort of lodged in my mind lately.
Essentially, all of the P’s in today’s post are partly because P is for Penguin(ian), but also just a chance for me to show off and stretch my alliterative muscles — prove my proficiency, if you will.
Though, admittedly, I’m not sure names like Pendleton and Pamela make sense for a species whose language’s main sounds seem to be “Quack” and “Honk.”
Sort of like “Chewbacca“…
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