"So, is the investigation over?" Skipper asked sceptically. The panel of senior officers, charged with investigating the disappearance of his team remained motionless.

"Yes. Do you have anything to say, before we give our verdict?" Special agent Mason asked, his face emotionless.

"So I'm guilty already." The accused penguin countered dryly.

"Is that your official statement?"

"Cut the mackerel, Mason. You know that wasn't. Give it to me strait. What's the verdict?"

"Acquitted," Mason stood up, his expression giving no indication as to whether he agreed with the verdict, "Meeting adjourned."

"Your assignment is to transport the weapon to experimental station D." Mason handed Skipper a large envelope, "Passports, driver's license, $500 in multiple currencies, the usual."

"Thank you, sir," the penguin accepted the envelope, not even bothering to check the contents; he'd done it all before, "Isn't experimental station D under siege?"

"Yes, some cult leader. Goes by the name of Savio."

"Why don't you just send in a couple of tanks?"

"And have a huge diplomatic hullabaloo? No, the new weapon is far less, obvious." The two penguins were driving one of the base's jeeps towards a small, very well hidden compound.

"So when do I pick my team?"

"You're going solo on this one."

"What happened to "never swim alone?"

"You aren't. The weapon will keep you company." Skipper was starting to get suspicions, but knew better than to ask questions. His position was precarious enough. The two penguins climbed out of the car and walked towards a heavily guarded entrance. After their IDs had been verified, the soldiers stood aside, allowing the two penguins to pass.

Skipper found himself in a large concrete room. There were two doors, one of which had been left ajar, revealing a laboratory. The other was solid steel. Mason entered a pass code, and the door slid open to reveal... a child?

"So he's the weapon?" Skipper asked motioning towards the child seemingly unaffected by the 'weapon's' age. The room was plain, a few books, a desk, and a bed on which the child sat, staring at the visitors. It was obvious he didn't have many.

"Have you ever heard of something called the Quantum Hyper-Cute?" Mason asked.

"No."

"Well it's a good thing you haven't, because it's top secret. Essentially, what this kid can do is reach a level of 132% cuteness. That's a level at which any anyone or anything alive can be knocked out, by an overload of sheer cuteness. We're trying to see if we can get it up to 184%, which would be fatal."

"Is there any way to prevent him from using it against me?"

"As far as we know, there isn't. However, the kid has questions about using his gift. He often needs… persuasion, if you know what I mean. That's why we picked you. If anyone can change his views, or at least keep him scared enough that he won't ask questions, it's you."

"You still think I killed Manfridi, Johnson and the rest of the camp?" Skipper asked, "How many times have to tell you to investigate Rico. I saw him kill Manfridi and Johnson. If I didn't know better..."

"Focus on the mission at hand."

"I want my name cleared, not just officially..."

"Stop obsessing over the matter."

Skipper and the weapon had driven about five miles from the base before the older penguin finally spoke.

"What's your name?" Skipper asked, glancing at his passenger.

"QHC-1, sir." The younger penguin responded without making eye contact.

"No I meant your real name. Like Henry or Jack."

"I don't know, sir."

"You mean you don't know you're own name?" skipper asked, a hint of surprise in his voice, though he kept his eyes on the road.

"Yes sir. They..."

"I didn't ask why, soldier," the older penguin interrupted, "Well, I can't call you QHC-1," Skipper paused, thinking of a suitable name, "You know, I've always wanted to have a Private. You can be my Private, for now. Consider this a field promotion."

"Thank you, sir."

"You can call me Skipper."

"Yes Skippah, sir."

"What's with the fake accent?" The penguin had only just realised it.

"It's not fake, sir. I'm English."

"Like herring you are. Still, if it amuses you."

By the next day, the two penguins were on a plane headed for a classified location in the jungles of South America. Private was starting to warm to the Skipper, who was extremely friendly compared to the scientists and guards who were all the company he had back at the base. Now half way through the journey, Private had stopped speaking in only "yes sir" and "no sir." However, he was still wary, and chose his words with care.

Private didn't want to leave the plane. He hadn't been out of the base since they brought him there as a little kid and suddenly being transported to a strange land wasn't exactly taking things one step at a time.

"No! I won't go out there!" The penguin desperately gripped the seat; his eyes wide with fear. Skipper glared at him.

"My job to transport a weapon, not babysit. If you think for one minute, I'm going to humour your little childish fears..." Without warning Skipper slapped the younger penguin across the face, so hard he lost his grip on the seat, and sprawled into the floor, "I don't have time for this." Skipper grabbed Private by the wing and dragged him out of the plane and out onto the tarmac of the small hidden airstrip. The pilot and some of the other penguins in the vicinity gave horrified looks, but said nothing.

Private sat with his ear to the door. He could just make out what was being said in the corridor outside.

"Of all the missions I could have been given I get stuck with this one." Skipper grumbled. Private could hear him pacing the floor.

"Skipper, he's only a child. He can't be much more than eleven." An unfamiliar voice replied.

"He's a soldier now." There was a pause before Skipper changed the subject, "Did you get the information?"

"Rico's been located." There was a scuffle of papers.

"Good," The door opened before Private had a chance to dive out of the way, the door catching the younger penguins on the side of the face, which was already sore from when Skipper had slapped him earlier. Private let out a moan of pain. Skipper immediately grabbed the younger penguin's wing, pulling him roughly to his feet, "Never listen to another person's conversation unless I tell you to. Understood?" He growled, suddenly seeming even scarier than he had before.

"Yes sir." Private squeaked. Skipper tossed him a backpack.

"We're leaving."