“There is a perk to being a major,” said Root.
“Sometimes, just to relieve the boredom, you can give yourself an assignment. Something on the surface. In Hawaii, maybe, or New Zealand. Look at Trouble Kelp. He’s a new breed of major, more hands-on. Maybe that’s what the LEP needs.”
Holly knew that the commander was trying to soften the blow. As soon as the major’s acorns were on her lapel, she wouldn’t get aboveground as much as she did now. If she was lucky.
“I’m putting my neck on the block here, Holly, recommending you for major. Your career so far has been, eventful, to say the least. If you intend to turn the promotion down, tell me now and I’ll withdraw your name.”
Last chance, thought Holly. Now or never.
“No,” she said. “I won’t turn it down. How could I? Who knows when the next Artemis Fowl will turn up?”
In Holly’s ears, her voice sounded distant, as though someone else were speaking. She imagined the bells of lifelong boredom clanging behind her every word. A desk job. She had a desk job.
Root patted her on the shoulder, his huge hand knocking the air from her lungs. “Cheer up, Captain. There is life belowground, you know.”
“I know,” Holly said with an utter lack of conviction.
The police cruiser pulled in beside E37. Root opened the car door, began to disembark, then stopped.
“If it makes any difference,” he said quietly, almost awkwardly, “I’m proud of you, Holly.” And he was gone, out the door and into the throng of LEP officers training their weapons on the chute entrance.
It does make a difference, thought Holly, watching the commander instantly take command of the situation. A big difference.
The chutes were natural magma vents that stretched from the earth’s core to the planet’s surface. Most emerged under water, supplying warm streams that nurtured deep-sea life, but some filtered their gasses through the network of cracks and fissures that riddled the dry land surface. The LEP used the power of magma flares to propel their officers to the surface in titanium eggs. A more leisurely shuttle trip could be taken in a dormant chute. E37 emerged in downtown Paris, and until recently, had been the chute used by goblins in their smuggling operations. Closed to the public for many years, the chute’s terminal had fallen into disrepair. Currently, E37’s only occupants were the members of a movie company that was making a TV film about the B’wa Kell rebellion. Holly was being portrayed by three-time AMP winner, Skylar Peat, and Artemis Fowl was to be completely computer generated.
When Holly and Root arrived, Major Trouble Kelp had three squads of tactical LEP arranged around the terminal’s entrance.
“Fill me in, Major,” ordered Root.
Kelp pointed to the entrance. “We have one way in, and no way out. All the secondary entrances have long since subsided, so if Scalene is in there, he has to go through us to go home.”
“Are we sure he’s there?”
“No,” admitted Major Kelp. “We picked up his signal. But whoever helped him to escape could have sliced open his head and removed the transmitter. All we know for sure is that someone is playing games with us. I sent in a couple of my best Recon sprites and they came back with this.” Trouble handed them a sound wafer. The wafers were the size of a thumbnail and were generally used to record short birthday greetings. This one was in the shape of a birthday cake. Root closed his fingers around the wafer. The heat from his hand would power its microcircuits.
A sibilant voice issued from the tiny speaker, made even more reptilian by the cheap wiring.
“Root,” said the voice. “I would speak to you. I would tell you a great secret. Bring the female, Holly Short. Two only, no more. Any more, and many will die. My comrades will see to it . . .” The message ended with a traditional birthday jingle, its cheeriness at odds with the message.
Root scowled. “Goblins. Drama queens, the lot of them.”
“It’s a trap, Commander,” said Holly without hesitation.
“We were the ones at Koboi Labs a year ago. The goblins hold us responsible for the rebellion’s failure. If we go in there, who knows what’s waiting for us.”
Root nodded approvingly. “Now you’re thinking like a major. We’re not expendable. So what are our options, Trouble?”
“If you don’t go in, many will die. If you do, you might.”
“Not a nice set of options. Don’t you have anything good to tell me?”
Trouble lowered his helmet’s visor, consulting a mini-screen on the Perspex. “We managed to get the terminal’s security scanners back online and ran substance and thermal scans. We found a single heat source in the access tunnel, so Scalene is alone, if it’s him. Whatever he’s doing in there, he doesn’t have any known form of weaponry or explosives. Just a few beetle bars and some good old H2O.”
“Any magma flares due?” asked Holly.
Trouble ran his index finger along a pad on his left glove, scrolling down the screen on his visor. “Nothing for a couple of months. That chute is intermittent. So Scalene is not planning to bake you.”
Root’s cheeks glowed like two heating coils. “D’Arvit,” he swore. “I thought our goblin troubles were over. I’m tempted just to send in tactical and take a chance that Scalene is bluffing.”
“That would be my advice,” said Trouble. “He doesn’t have anything in there that could harm you. Give me five fairies, and we’ll have Scalene in a wagon before he knows he’s been arrested.”
“I take it the sleeper half of the seeker-sleeper is not working?” said Holly.
Trouble shrugged. “We have to suppose it’s not. The seeker-sleeper didn’t function until now, and when we got here the wafer was left out for us. Scalene knew we were coming. He even left a message.”
Root punched his palm with a fist. “I have to go in. There’s no immediate danger inside, and we can’t assume that Scalene hasn’t come up with a way to carry out his threat. I don’t have a choice, not really. I won’t order you to come with me, Captain Short.”
Holly felt her stomach lurch, but she swallowed the fear. The Commander was right. There was no other way. This was what being an LEP officer was all about. Protecting the People.
“You don’t have to order me, Commander. I volunteer.”
“Good. Now, Trouble, let Foaly and his shuttle through the barricade. We may have to go in, but we don’t have to go in unarmed.”
Foaly had more weaponry crammed into the back of a single shuttle than most human police forces had in their entire arsenal. Every inch of wall space had a power cable screwed into it or a rifle dangling from a hook. The centaur sat in the center, fine-tuning a Neutrino handgun. He tossed it to Holly as she entered the van.
She caught it deftly. “Hey, careful with that.”
Foaly snickered. “Don’t worry. The trigger hasn’t been coded yet. Nobody can fire this weapon until its computer registers an owner. Even if this weapon did fall into goblin hands, it would be useless to them. One of my latest developments. After the B’wa Kell rebellion, I thought it was time to upgrade our security.”
Holly wrapped her fingers around the pistol’s grip. A red scanner light ran the length of the plastic butt, then switched to green.
“That’s it. You’re the owner. From now on that Neutrino 3000 is a one-female gun.”
Holly hefted the transparent gun in her fist. “It’s too
light. I prefer the 2000.”
Foaly brought the gun’s specifications up on a wall screen. “It’s light, but you’ll get used to it. On the plus side, there are no metal parts. It’s powered by kinetics, the motion of your body, with a backup mini-nuke cell. Naturally it’s linked to a targeting system in your helmet. The casing is virtually impregnable, and if I do say so myself, it’s a cool piece of hardware.”
Foaly passed a larger version of the gun to Root. “Every shot is registered on the LEP computer, so we can tell who fired, when they fired, and in what direction. That should save internal affairs a lot of computer time.” He winked at Holly. “Something you’ll be glad to hear.”
Holly leered back at the centaur. She was well known to IA. They had already conducted two inquiries into her professional conduct, and would just love the opportunity to conduct a third. The one good thing about being promoted would be the looks on their faces when the commander pinned those major’s acorns to her lapel.
Root holstered his weapon. “Okay. Now we can shoot. But what if we get shot?”
“You won’t get shot,” insisted Foaly. “I’ve hacked into the terminal scanners, I’ve planted a couple of sensors of my own, too. There’s nothing in there that can harm you. Worst-case scenario, you trip over your own feet and get a sprained ankle.”
Root’s complexion reddened all the way down his neck. “Foaly, do I have to remind you that your sensors have been fooled before, in this very terminal, if I remember correctly.”
“Okay, okay. Take it easy, Commander,” said Foaly under his breath. “I haven’t forgotten about last year. How could I with Holly reminding me every five minutes?”
The centaur hefted two sealed suitcases onto a workbench. He keyed in a number sequence on their security pads and popped the lids. “These are the next-generation Recon suits. I was planning to unveil them at the LEP conference next month, but with a real-live commander going into action, you better have them today.”
Holly pulled a jumpsuit from the case. It glittered briefly, then turned the color of the van walls.