The Arctic Incident (Artemis Fowl 2)

General Scalene was not convinced. “It would be ours a lot faster if we had some Koboi blasters.”

Cudgeon sighed patiently. “We’ve been through this, General. The disruption signal knocks out all neutrino weapons. If you get blasters, so will the LEP.”

Scalene shuffled into a corner, licking his eyeballs.

Of course that was not the only reason for denying the goblins neutrino weapons. Cudgeon had no intention of arming a group he intended to betray. As soon as the B’wa Kell had disposed of the Council, Opal would return power to the LEP.

“How are things proceeding?”

Opal swiveled in her Hoverboy, legs curled beneath her.

“Deliciously. The main doors fell moments after you left to . . . negotiate.”

Cudgeon grinned. “Good thing I left. I might have been injured.”

“Captain Kelp has pulled his remaining forces into the weapons’ room, ringing the Operations Booth. The Council are in there, too.”

“Perfect,” said Cudgeon.

Another B’wa Kell general, Sputa, banged the conference table.

“No, Cudgeon. Far from perfect. Our brothers are wasting away in Howler’s Peak.”

“Patience, General Sputa,” said Cudgeon soothingly, actually laying a hand on the goblin’s shoulder. “As soon as Police Plaza falls, we can open the cells in Howler’s Peak without resistance.”

Internally Cudgeon fumed. These idiot creatures. How he detested them. Clothed in robes fashioned from their own cast-off skin. Repulsive. Cudgeon longed to reactivate the DNA cannons and stop their jabbering for a few sweet hours.

He caught Opal’s eye. She knew what he was thinking.

Her tiny teeth showed in anticipation. What a delightfully vicious creature. Which was, of course, why she had to be disposed of. Opal Koboi could never be happy as second in command.

He winked at her.

“Soon,” he mouthed silently. “Soon.”

CHAPTER 13

INTO THE BREACH

Below Koboi Laboratories

An LEP shuttle is shaped like a teardrop, bottom heavy with thrusters, and with a nose that could cut through steel. Of course, our heroes weren’t in an LEP shuttle, they were in the ambassador’s luxury cruiser. Comfort was definitely favored over speed. It had a nose like a gnome’s behind. Bulky and expensive looking, with a grille you could use to barbecue buffalo.

“So, you’re saying this fissure is going to open up for a couple of minutes, and I have to fly through. And that’s the entire plan?” said Holly.

“It’s the best we’ve got,” said Root glumly.

“Well, at least we’ll be in padded seats when we get squashed. This thing handles like a three-legged rhinoceros.”

“How was I to know?” grumbled Root. “This was supposed to be a routine run. This shuttle has an excellent stereo.”

Butler raised his hand. “Listen. What’s that sound?”

They listened. The noise came from below them, like a giant clearing its throat.

Holly consulted the keel cams.

“Flare,” she announced. “Big sucker. It’ll be roasting our tail feathers any minute.”

The rock face before them cracked and groaned in constant expansion and contraction. Fissures heaved like grinning mouths lined with black teeth.

“That’s it. Let’s go,” urged Mulch. “That fissure is going to seal up faster than a stink worm’s—”

“Not enough room yet,” snapped Holly. “This is a shuttle, not one fat dwarf riding stolen wings.”

Mulch was too scared to be insulted.

“Just move it. It’ll widen as we go.”

Generally Holly would have waited for Root to give the green light. But this was her area. No one was going to argue with Captain Holly Short at the controls of a shuttle.

The chasm shuddered open another few feet.

Holly gritted her teeth. “Hold on to your ears,” she said, ramming the thrusters to maximum.

The craft’s occupants clutched their armrests, and more than one closed his eyes. But not Artemis. He couldn’t. There was something morbidly fascinating about flying into an uncharted tunnel at a reckless speed, with only a kleptomaniac dwarf’s word for what lay at the other end.

Holly concentrated on her instruments. Hull cameras and sensors fed information to various screens and speakers. Sonar was going crazy, beeping so fast it was almost a continuous whine. Fixed halogen headlights fed frightening images to the monitors, and laser radar drew a green 3-D line picture on a dark screen. Then of course, there was the quartz windshield. But with sheets of rock dust and larger debris, the naked eye was next to useless.

“Temperature increasing,” she muttered, glancing at the rearview monitor. An orange magma column blasted past the fissure mouth, spilling over into the tunnel.

They were in a desperate race. The fissure was closing behind them, and expanding before the craft’s prow. The noise was terrific. Thunder in a bubble.

Mulch covered his ears. “Next time, I’ll take Howler’s Peak.”

“Quiet, convict,” growled Root. “This was all your idea.”

Their arguing was interrupted by a tremendous grating sound, and a shower of sparks that danced across the windshield.

“Sorry,” apologized Captain Short. “There goes our communications array.”

She flipped the craft sideways, scraping between two shifting plates. The plates crashed behind them. A giant’s handclap.

The magma’s heat coated the rock face, dragging the plates together. A jagged edge clipped the shuttle’s rear. Butler held his weapon. It was a comfort thing.

Then they were through. Spiraling into a cavern toward three enormous titanium rods.

“There,” gasped Mulch. “The foundation rods.”

Holly rolled her eyes.

“You don’t say,” she groaned, firing the docking clamps.

Mulch had drawn another diagram. This one looked like a bendy snake.

“We’re being led by an idiot with a crayon,” said Root, with deceptive calmness.

“I got you this far, didn’t I, Julius?” pouted Mulch.

Holly was finishing the last bottle of mineral water. A good third of it went over her head.

“Don’t you dare start sulking, dwarf,” she said. “As far as I can see we’re stuck in the center of the earth, with no way out and no communications.”

Mulch backed up a step. “I can see you’re a bit tense after the flight. Let’s all calm down now, shall we?”

Nobody looked very calm. Even Artemis seemed slightly shaken by their ordeal.

“That’s the hard bit over. We’re in the foundations now. The only way is up.”

“Oh, really, convict?” said Root. “And how do you suggest we go up exactly?”

Mulch plucked a carrot from the larder, waving it at his diagram. “This here is . . .”

“A snake?”

“No, Julius. It’s one of the foundation rods.”

“The solid titanium foundation rods, sunk in impregnable bedrock?”

“The very ones. Except one isn’t solid. Exactly.”

Artemis nodded. “I thought so. You cut corners on this work, didn’t you, Mulch?”

Mulch was unrepentant. “You know what

building regulations are like. Solid titanium pillars? Do you have any idea how expensive that is? Threw our estimate right off. So me and cousin Nord decided to forget the titanium packing.”

“But you had to fill that column with something,” interrupted the commander. “Koboi would have run scans.”

Mulch nodded guiltily.

“We hooked up the sewage pipes to it for a couple of days. The sonographs came up clean.”

Holly felt her throat clench. “Sewage. You mean ...”

“No. Not anymore. That was a hundred years ago, it’s just clay now. Very good clay, as it happens.”

Root’s face could have boiled a large cauldron of water. “You expect us to climb through twenty yards of . . . manure.”

The dwarf shrugged. “Hey, do I care? Stay here forever if you want, I’m going up the pipe.”

Artemis did not like this sudden turn of events. Running, jumping, injury, okay. But sewage?

“This is your plan?” he managed to mutter.

“What’s the matter, Mud Boy?” smirked Mulch. “Afraid of getting your hands dirty?”

It was only a figure of speech, Artemis knew. But true nevertheless. He glanced at his slender fingers. Yesterday morning they had been pianist’s fingers, with manicured nails. Today they could have belonged to a builder.

Holly clapped Artemis on the shoulder.

“Okay,” she declared. “Let’s do it. As soon as we save the Lower Elements, we can get back to rescuing your father.”

Holly noticed a change in Artemis’s face. Almost as if his features weren’t sure how to arrange themselves. She paused, realizing what she had said. For her, the remark had been a casual encouragement, the kind of thing an officer said every day. But it seemed as though Artemis was not accustomed to being a member of a team.

“Don’t think I’m getting chummy, or anything. It’s just that when I give my word, I stick to it.”

Artemis decided not to respond. He’d already been punched once today.

They descended from the shuttle on a folding stairway.