Sool was not convinced. ‘I’ve never trusted your gadgets, Foaly. Your Retimager is not accepted as actual evidence in a courtroom.’
‘We’re not in a courtroom, Sool,’ said Foaly through clenched teeth. ‘If we accept that Opal could be loose, then the events of the past twenty-four hours take on a whole new significance. A pattern begins to emerge. Scalene is dead, pixies are missing from the clinic, Julius is murdered and Holly blamed. Then, within hours of this, a probe is sent down, decades ahead of schedule. Koboi is behind all of this. That probe is on its way here and we’re sitting around watching it on PPTV… Eating stinking vole curry!’
‘I object to the disparaging curry remark,’ said Cahartez, wounded. ‘But otherwise I take your point.’
Sool jumped from his chair. ‘What point? Foaly is joining dots that don’t exist. All he is trying to do is exonerate his late friend, Captain Short,’
‘Holly may be alive!’ snapped Foaly. ‘And trying to do something about Opal Koboi.’
Sool rolled his eyes. ‘But her vitals flatlined, centaur. We remote-destroyed her helmet. I was there, remember.’
A head poked into the room, one of Foaly’s lab apprentices.
‘I got that case, sir,’ he panted. ‘Quick as I could.’
‘Well done, Roob,’ said Foaly, snatching the case from the apprentice’s hand. He spun the case around. ‘I issued Holly and Julius with new suits. Prototypes. They both have bio-sensors and trackers. They are not linked with the LEP mainframe. I never thought to check them earlier. Holly’s helmet may be out of action, but her suit is still functioning.’
‘What do the suit’s sensors tell us, Foaly?’ asked Vinyaya.
Foaly was almost afraid to look. If the suit sensors were flatlining, it would be like losing Holly again. He counted to three, then consulted the small screen in the case.
There were two readouts on the screen. One was flat. Julius. But the other was active in all areas.
‘Holly is alive!’ shouted the centaur, kissing Commander Vinyaya soundly on the cheek. ‘Alive and reasonably well, apart from elevated blood pressure and next to zero magic in her tank.’
‘And where is she?’ asked Vinyaya, smiling.
Foaly enlarged the locator section of the screen. ‘On her way up E7, in the shuttle that was stolen by Mulch Diggums, if I’m not much mistaken.’
Sool was delighted. ‘Let me get this straight. Murder suspect Holly Short is in a stolen chute next to the Zito probe.’
‘That’s right.’
‘That would make her the prime suspect in any irregularities concerning the probe.’
Foaly was very tempted to actually trample Sool, but he held his temper in check for Holly’s sake. ‘All I’m asking, Sool, is that you give me a green light to send the supersonic shuttle to investigate. If I’m right, then your first act as Commander will be to avert a calamity.’
‘And if you’re wrong? Which you probably are.’
‘If I’m wrong, then you get to bring in public enemy number one, Captain Holly Short.’
Sool stroked his goatee. It was a win — win situation. ‘Very well. Send the shuttle. How long will it take to prep?’
Foaly pulled a phone from his pocket, hitting a number on the speed-dial.
‘Major Kelp,’ he said into the mouthpiece. ‘Green light. Go.’ Foaly smiled at Ark Sool. ‘I briefed Major Kelp on my way over. I felt sure you’d see it my way. Commanders generally do.’
Sool scowled. ‘Don’t get familiar with me, pony boy. This is not the start of a beautiful relationship. I’m sending the shuttle because it is the only option. If you are somehow manipulating me, or bending the truth, I will bury you in tribunal hearings for the next five years. Then I will fire you.’
Foaly ignored him. There would be plenty of time for trading threats later. Right now he needed to concentrate on the shuttle’s progress. He had gone through the shock of Holly’s death once before and he did not intend to go through it again.
E7
Mulch Dipgums could have been an athlete. He had the jaws and recycling equipment for sprint digging, or even cross country. Plenty of natural ability, but no dedication. He tried it for a couple of months in college, but the strict regime of training and diet did not suit him.
Mulch could still remember his college tunnelling coach giving him a pep talk after training one night. ‘You got the jaws, Diggums,’ the old dwarf admitted, ‘and you sure got the behind. I ain’t never seen no one who could pump out the bubbles like you do. But you ain’t got the heart, and that’s what’s important.’
Maybe the old dwarf was right. Mulch never did have the heart for selfless activity. Tunnelling was a lonely job, and there wasn’t much money in it either. And because it was an ethnic sport, the TV networks were not interested. No advertising meant no big pay deals for the athletes. Mulch decided his digging prowess could more profitably be utilized on the shady side of the law. Maybe if he had some gold, then female dwarfs would be more likely to return his calls.
And now here he was, breaking all his rules, preparing to break into a craft that was bristling with fairy sensors and occupied by armed hostiles. Just to help someone else. Of all the vehicles on the planet or under it, Artemis just had to get into the most technologically advanced shuttle in existence. Every square centimetre of the stealth shuttle’s plating would be alarmed with lasers, motion sensors, static sheets and who knew what else. Still, alarms were no good if they weren’t activated, and that was what Mulch was counting on.
Mulch waved goodbye in the general direction of the shuttle, just in case anyone was still watching him, and traversed the rocky outcrop to the safety of the chute wall.
Dwarfs do not like heights, and being technically below sea level was not helping his vertigo.
The dwarf sank his fingers into a vein of soft clay sprouting through the rock wall.
Home. Anywhere on earth was home to a dwarf, as long as there was clay. Mulch felt calm settle over him. He was safe now — for the time being at any rate.
The dwarf unhinged his jaw with twin cracks! that would make any other sentient species wince. He popped the snaps on his bum-flap and launched himself into the clay.
His gnashing teeth scooped bucketfuls of clay from the chute wall, creating an instant tunnel. Mulch crawled into the space, sealing the cavity behind him with recycled clay from his rear end.
After half a dozen mouthfuls, the sonar filaments in his hair detected a shelf of rock ahead and he adjusted his course accordingly. The stealth shuttle would not be set down on rock because it was top-of-the-range and as such would have a battery rod.
The rods telescoped from the belly of the ship, drilling fifteen metres below the ground, recharging the shuttle’s batteries with the power of the Earth. The cleanest of energies.
The battery rod vibrated slightly as it harvested, and it was this vibration that Mulch honed in on now. It took him just over five minutes of steady munching to clear the rock shelf and reach the tip of the battery rod. The vibrations had already loosened the earth, and it was a simple matter for Mulch to clear himself a little cave. He spread saliva on the walls and waited.
Holly piloted the LEP craft through the small shuttle port, overriding the shuttle doors with her Recon access code. Police Plaza hadn’t bothered to change her code because, as far as they were concerned, she was dead.
A sheet of black rain-clouds was spreading shadows across the Italian countryside as they cleared the holographic outcrop that shielded the shuttle port. A light frost coated the reddish clay and a southerly wind lifted the shuttle’s tail.
‘We can’t stay out here for long,’ said Holly, throttling back to a hover. ‘This transporter doesn’t have defences.’
‘We won’t need long,’ said Artemis. ‘Fly in a grid search pattern, as though we’re not certain — where exactly the stealth shuttle is.’
Holly punched some co-ordinates into the flight computer. ‘You’re the genius.’
Artemis turned to Butler, who was sitting, cross-legged, in the aisle. ‘Now, old friend, can you make certain that Opal is looking this way?’
‘Can do,’ said Butler, crawling to the port-side exit. He knuckled the access button and the door slid back. The shuttle bucked slightly as the cabin pressure equalized then settled.
Butler opened his bag of weaponry and selected a handful of metal spheres, roughly the size of tennis balls. He flicked back the safety cap on one, then depressed the button below it with his thumb. The button began to rise to its original position.
‘Ten seconds until the button is flush with the surface. Then it makes a connection.’
‘Thank you for the lecture,’ said Artemis dryly. ‘Though now is hardly the time.’
Butler smiled, tossing the metal sphere into the air. Five seconds later, it exploded, blowing a small crater in the earth below. Scorch lines ran from the crater, giving it the appearance of a black flower.
‘I bet Opal is looking now,’ said Butler, priming the next grenade.
‘I’m sure others will be looking soon. Explosions don’t tend to go unnoticed for long. We are relatively isolated here. The nearest village is approximately ten miles away. If we are lucky, that gives us a ten-minute window. Next grid square, please,
Holly. But not too close, we don’t want to scare them off.’
Fifteen metres below the ground, Mulch Diggums waited in his little DIY cave, watching the tip of the battery rod. As soon as it stopped vibrating, he began working his way upwards through the loose clay. The telescopic rod was warm to the touch, heated by the energy it conducted to the shuttle’s batteries. Mulch used it to help him on his journey, pulling himself upwards, hand over hand. The clay he consumed was broken and aerated from the rod’s drilling action, and Mulch was glad of that extra air.
He converted it to wind, using it to boost himself upwards.
Mulch increased his pace, pumping the air and clay through his recycling passages. Opal would be distracted by the shuttle only for so long, before it occurred to her that it was a diversion. The rod thickened as he went along it, until he arrived at a rubber seal in the belly of the shuttle itself, which was raised on three retractable legs, half a metre off the ground. When the shuttle was in flight, this seal would be covered by a metal panel, but the shuttle was not in flight at the moment and the sensors were turned off.
Mulch climbed out of his tunnel and rehinged his jaw. This was precision work, and he needed fine control of his teeth. Rubber was not a recommended part of a dwarf’s diet and so could not be swallowed. Half-digested rubber could seal up his insides as effectively as a barrel of glue.
It was an awkward bite. Difficult to get a grip. Mulch flattened his cheek against the battery rod, worming upwards until his incisors could get some purchase on the seal. He bore down on the heavy rubber, rotating his jaw in small circles until his upper tooth broke through. Then he ground his teeth, enlarging the rent until there was a ten-centimetre tear in the rubber. Now Mulch could get one side of his mouth into the gap.
He tore off large chunks, taking care to spit them out immediately.
In less than a minute, Mulch had torn a thirty-centimetre-square hole. Just enough for him to squeeze through. Anyone unfamiliar with dwarfs would have bet money that Mulch could never squeeze his well-fed bulk through such a narrow aperture, but they would have lost their cash. Dwarfs have spent millennia escaping from cave-ins, and they have developed the ability to squeeze through tighter holes than this one.
Mulch sucked in his gut and wriggled through the torn seal, head first. He was glad to be out of the faint morning sunlight. Sun was another thing dwarfs do not like; after mere minutes in direct sunlight, a dwarf’s skin will be redder than a boiled lobster’s. He shinned up the battery rod into the shuttle’s engine compartment. Most of the small space was taken up with flat batteries and a hydrogen generator. There was an access hatch overhead that should lead into the cargo bay. Ropes of lights ran the length of the compartment, giving off pale-green light. Any radiation leak from the generator would show up purple. The reason why the light ropes were still working without power was because the illumination was supplied by specially cultivated, decaying algae. Not that Mulch knew any of this, he just thought that the light was very similar to the luminescence from dwarf spittle, and the familiarity made him relax. He relaxed a bit too much, as it happened, allowing a small squib of tunnel gas to escape through his bum-flap. Hopefully nobody would notice that…
Maybe half a minute later, he heard Opal’s voice from above.
‘Now, whoever is passing wind, please stop it, or I will devise a fitting punishment.’
Oops, thought Mulch guiltily. In dwarf circles it is considered almost criminal to allow someone else to be blamed for your air bubbles. Through sheer force of habit,
Mulch almost raised his hand and confessed, but luckily his instinct for self-preservation was stronger than his conscience.
Moments later, the signal came. It was hard to miss. The explosion rocked the entire shuttle twenty degrees off centre. It was time to make his move and trust Artemis when he said that it was almost impossible not to watch an explosion.
Mulch nudged the hatch open a crack with the crown of his head. The dwarf half expected someone to stamp on the hatch, but the cargo bay was empty. Mulch folded the hatch back and crept all the way into the small chamber. There was a lot here to interest him. Crates of ingots, perspex boxes of human currency and antique jewellery hanging from mannequins. Obviously Opal did not intend to be poor in her new role as a human. Mulch snagged a single diamond earring from a nearby bust. So Artemis had told him not to take anything? So what? One earring wouldn’t slow him down.
Mulch popped the pigeon’s-egg-sized diamond into his mouth and swallowed. He would pass that later, when he was on his own. Until then it could lodge in his stomach wall, and come out shinier than it went in.
Another explosion bucked the floor beneath his feet, reminding Mulch to move on. He crossed to the bay door, which was slightly ajar. The next chamber was the passenger area, and it was just as plush as Holly had described. Mulch’s lip rippled at the sight of fur-covered chairs. Repulsive. Beyond the passenger area was the cockpit. Opal and her two friends were clearly visible, staring intently out of the front windscreen.
They were making not a sound, and saying not a word. Just as Artemis had said.
Mulch dropped to his knees and crawled across the lounge’s carpet. He was now completely exposed. If one of the pixies decided to turn around, he would be stranded in the middle of the lounge with nothing but a smile to hide behind.
Just keep going and don’t think about that, Mulch told himself. If Opal catches you, pretend you‘ re lost or have amnesia, or just came out of a coma. Maybe she’ll sympathize, give you some gold and send you on your way. Yeah, right.
