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CHAPTER 12: THE BOYS ARE BACK

OPERATIONS’ BOOTH

FOALY was thinking. Always thinking. His mind popped off ideas like corn in a microwave. But he couldn’t do anything with them. He couldn’t even call up Julius and pester him with his hair-brained schemes. Fowl’s laptop seemed to be the centaur’s only weapon. It was like trying to fight a troll with a toothpick.

Not that the human computer was without some merit, in an ancient-history kind of a way. The e-mail had already proved useful. Provided there was anybody alive to answer it. There was also a small camera mounted on the lid, for video-conferencing. Something the Mud People had only come up with recently. Until then, humans had communicated purely through text or sound waves. Foaly tutted, barbarians. But this camera was pretty high quality, with several filter options. If the centaur didn’t know better, he’d swear someone had been leaking fairy technology.

Foaly swivelled the laptop with his hoof, pointing the camera towards the screens on the wall. Come on, Cudgeon, he thought. Smile for the birdie.

He didn’t have long to wait. Within minutes, a com screen flickered into life and Cudgeon appeared, waving a white flag.

‘Nice touch,’ commented Foaly sarcastically.

‘I thought so,’ said the elf, waving the pennant theatrically. ‘I’m going to need this later.’ Cudgeon pressed a button on the remote control. ‘Why don’t I show you what’s going on outside?’ The windows cleared to reveal several squads of technicians feverishly trying to break the booth’s defences. Most were aiming computer sensors at the booth’s various interfaces, but some were doing it the old-fashioned way. Whacking the sensors with big hammers. None were having any luck.

Foaly swallowed. He was a rat in a trap. ‘Why don’t you fill me in on your plan, Briar? Isn’t that what the power-crazed villain usually does?’ Cudgeon settled back into his swivel chair. ‘Certainly, Foaly. Because this isn’t one of your precious human movies. There will be no hero rushing in at the last moment. Short and Root are already dead. As are their human partners. No reprieve, no rescue. Just certain death.’ Foaly knew he should be feeling sadness, but hatred was all he could find.

‘Just when things are at their most desperate, I shall instruct Opal to return weapons control to the LEP. The B’ wa Kell will be rendered unconscious, and you will be blamed for the entire affair, provided you survive, which I doubt.’ ‘When the B’ wa Kell recover, they will name you.’

Cudgeon wagged a finger. ‘Only a handful know I am involved, and I shall take care of them personally. They have already been summoned to Koboi Labs. I shall join them shortly. The DNA cannons are being calibrated to reject goblin strands. When the time comes I shall activate them, and the entire squadron will be out for the count.’ ‘And then Opal Koboi becomes your empress, I suppose?’

‘Of course,’ said Cudgeon aloud. But then he manipulated the remote’s keyboard, making certain they were on a secure channel.

‘Empress?’ he breathed. ‘Really, Foaly. Do you think I’d go to all this trouble to share power? Oh no. As soon as this charade is over Miss Koboi will have a tragic accident. Perhaps several tragic accidents.’ Foaly bristled. ‘At the risk of sounding clichéd, Briar, you’ll never get away with this.’ Cudgeon’s finger hovered over the terminate button. ‘Well if I don’t,’ he said pleasantly, ‘you won’t be alive to gloat this time.’ And he was gone, leaving the centaur to sweat it out in the booth. Or so Cudgeon thought.

Foaly reached below the desk to the laptop. ‘And cut,’ he murmured, pausing the camera. ‘Take five, people, that’s a wrap.’ CHUTE E116

Holly clamped the shuttle to the wall of a disused chute.

‘We got about thirty minutes. Internal sensors say there’s a flare coming up here in half an hour, and no shuttle is built to withstand that kind of heat.’ They gathered in the pressurized lounge to put together a plan.

‘We need to break into Koboi Labs and regain control of the LEP weaponry,’ said the commander.

Mulch was out of his chair and heading for the door. ‘No way, Julius. That place has been upgraded since I was there. I heard they’ve got DNA-coded cannons.’ Root grabbed the dwarf by the scruff of his neck. ‘One, don’t call me Julius. And two, you’re acting like you have a choice, convict.’ Mulch glared at him. ‘I do have a choice, Julius. I can just serve out my sentence in a nice little cell. Putting me in the line of fire is a violation of my civil rights.’ Root’s facial tones alternated from pastel pink to turnip purple. ‘Civil rights!’ he spluttered. ‘You’re talking to me about civil rights! Isn’t that just typical?’ Then, strangely, he calmed down. In fact, he seemed almost happy. Those who were close to the commander knew that when he was happy, somebody else was about to be extremely sad.

‘What?’ asked Mulch suspiciously.

Root lit one of his noxious fungus cigars. ‘Oh, nothing. Just that you’re right, that’s all.’ The dwarf squinted. ‘I’m right? You’re saying, in front of witnesses, that I’m right.’ ‘Certainly you are. Putting you in the line of fire would violate every right in the book. So, instead of cutting you the fantastic deal that I was about to offer, I’m going to add a couple of centuries to your sentence and throw you in maximum security.’ Root paused, blowing a cloud of smoke at Mulch’s face. ‘In Howler’s Peak.’ Mulch paled beneath the mud caking his cheeks. ‘Howler’s Peak? But that’s a …’ ‘A goblin prison,’ completed the commander. ‘I know. But for an obvious escape risk such as yourself, I don’t think I’d have any trouble convincing the board to make an exception.’ Mulch dropped into the padded gyro chair. This wasn’t good. The last time he’d been in a cell with goblins, it hadn’t been any fun. And that had been in Police Plaza. He wouldn’t last a week in general population.

‘So what was this deal?’

Artemis smiled, fascinated: Commander Root was smarter than he looked. Then again, it would be almost impossible not to be.

‘Oh, now you’re interested?’

‘I might be. No promises, mind.’

‘OK, here it is. One-time offer. Don’t even bother bargaining. You get us into Koboi Labs and I give you a two-day head start when this is over.’ Mulch swallowed. That was a good offer. They must be in a whole lot of trouble.

POLICE PLAZA

Things were hotting up at Police Plaza. The monsters were at the door. Literally. Captain Kelp was running between stations, trying to reassure his men.

‘Don’t worry, people, they can’t get through those doors with Softnoses. Nothing less than some kind of missile –’ At that moment, a tremendous force buckled the main doors, like a child blowing up a paper bag. They held. Barely.

Cudgeon came rushing out of the tactical room, his commander’s acorns glinting on his breast. With his reinstatement by the Council, he had made history by becoming the only commander in the LEP to have been appointed twice.

‘What was that?’

Trouble brought up a front view on the monitors. A goblin stood with a large tube on his shoulder.

‘Bazooka of some kind. I think it’s one of the old wide-bore Softnose cannons.’ Cudgeon smacked his own forehead. ‘Don’t tell me. They were all supposed to have been destroyed. A curse on that centaur! How did he manage to sneak all that hardware out from under my nose?’ ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ said Trouble. ‘He fooled all of us.’ ‘How much more of that can we stand?’

Trouble shrugged. ‘Not much. A couple more hits. Maybe they only had one missile.’ Famous last words. The doorway shook a second time; large chunks of masonry tumbled from the marble pillars.

Trouble picked himself off the ground, magic zipping a gash on his forehead. ‘Paramedics, check for casualties. Have we got those weapons charged yet?’ Grub hobbled over, hampered by the weight of two electric rifles. ‘Ready to go, Captain. Thirty-two weapons. Twenty pulses each.’ ‘OK. Best marks-fairies only. Not one shot fired until I give the word.’ Grub nodded, his face grim and pale.

‘Good, Corporal, now move it out.’

When his brother was out of earshot, Trouble spoke quietly to Commander Cudgeon. ‘I don’t know what to tell you, Commander. They blew the Atlantis tunnel, so there’s no help coming from there. We can’t get a pentagram around them to stop time. We’re completely surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned. If the B’ wa Kell breaches the blast doors, it will be over in seconds. We have to get into that Operations’ booth. Any progress?’ Cudgeon shook his head. ‘The techies are working on it. We have sensors pointed at every centimetre of the surface. If we hit on the access code, it will be blind luck.’ Trouble rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. ‘I need time. There must be a way to stall them.’ Cudgeon drew a white flag from inside his tunic.

‘There is a way…’

‘Commander! You can’t go out there. It’s suicide.’

‘Perhaps,’ admitted the commander. ‘But if I don’t go, we could all be dead in a matter of minutes. At least this way, we’ll have a few minutes to work on the Operations’ booth.’ Trouble considered it. There was no other way. ‘What have you got to bargain with?’ ‘The prisoners in Howler’s Peak. Maybe we could negotiate some kind of controlled release.’ ‘The Council will never go for that.’

Cudgeon drew himself up to his full height. ‘This is not a time for politics, Captain. This is a time for action.’ Trouble was, quite frankly, amazed. This was not the same Briar Cudgeon he knew. Someone had given this fairy a spine transplant.

Now the newly appointed commander was going to earn that acorn cluster on his lapel. Trouble felt an emotion well up in his chest. One that he’d never before associated with Briar Cudgeon. It was respect.

‘Open the front door a crack,’ ordered the commander in steely tones. Foaly would be just loving this on camera. ‘I’m going out to talk to these reptiles.’ Trouble relayed the command. If they ever got out of this, he would see to it that Commander Cudgeon was awarded a posthumous Golden Acorn. At the very least.

UNCHARTED CHUTE, BELOW KOBOI LABORATORIES

The Atlantean shuttle sped down a vast chute, sticking tightly to the walls. Close enough to scrape paint from the hull.

Artemis poked his head through from the passenger bay.

‘Is this really necessary, Captain?’ he asked, as they avoided death by a centimetre for the umpteenth time. ‘Or is it just more fly-boy grandstanding?’ Holly winked. ‘Do I look like a fly boy to you, Fowl?’

Artemis had to admit that she didn’t. Captain Short was extremely pretty in a dangerous sort of way. Black-widow pretty. Artemis was expecting puberty to hit in approximately eight months, and he suspected that at that point he would look at Holly in a different light. It was probably just as well that she was eighty years old.

‘I’m hugging the surface to search for this alleged crack that Mulch insists is along here,’ Holly explained.

Artemis nodded. The dwarf’s theory. Just incredible enough to be true. He returned to the aft bay for Mulch’s version of a briefing.

The dwarf had drawn a crude diagram on a backlit wall panel. In fairness, there were more artistic chimpanzees. And less pungent ones. Mulch was using a carrot as a pointer – or, more accurately, several carrots. Dwarfs liked carrots.

‘This is Koboi Labs,’ he mumbled around a mouthful of vegetable.

‘That?’ exclaimed Root.

‘I realize, Julius, that it is not an accurate schematic.’ The commander exploded from his chair. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear there was dwarf gas involved. ‘An accurate schematic? It’s a rectangle, for heaven’s sake!’ Mulch was unperturbed. ‘That’s not important. This is the important bit.’ ‘That wobbly line?’

‘It’s a fissure,’ protested the dwarf. ‘Anybody can see that.’ ‘Anybody in kindergarten, maybe. So it’s a fissure, so what?’ ‘This is the clever bit. Y’see, that fissure is not usually there.’ Root began strangling the air again. Something he was doing more and more lately. But Artemis was suddenly interested.

‘When does the fissure appear?’

But Mulch wasn’t just going to give a straight answer. ‘Us dwarfs. We know something about rocks. Been digging around ‘em for ages.’ Root’s fingers began beating a tattoo on his buzz baton. ‘What fairies don’t realize is that rocks are alive. They breathe.’ Artemis nodded. ‘Of course. Heat expansion.’

Mulch bit the carrot triumphantly. ‘Exactly. And, of course, the opposite. They contract when they cool down.’ Even Root was listening now. ‘Koboi Labs is built on solid mantle. Three miles of rock. No way in, short of sonix warheads. And I think Opal Koboi might notice them.’ ‘And that helps us how?’

‘A crack opens up in that rock when it cools down. I worked on the foundations when they were building this place. Gets you right in under the labs. Still a way to go, but at least you’re in.’ The commander was sceptical. ‘So how come Opal Koboi hasn’t noticed this gaping fissure?’ ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say it was gaping.’

‘How big?’

Mulch shrugged. ‘Dunno. Maybe five metres. At its widest point.’ ‘That’s still a pretty big fissure to be sitting there all day.’ ‘Only it’s not there all day,’ interrupted Artemis. ‘Is it, Mulch?’ ‘All day? I wish. I’d say, at a guess, this is only an approximation mind…’ Root was losing his cool. Being one step behind all the time didn’t agree with him.

‘Tell me, convict, before I add another scorch mark to your behind!’ Mulch was injured. ‘Stop shouting, Julius, you’re curling my beard.’ Root opened the cooler, letting the icy tendrils play over his face.

‘OK, Mulch. How long?’

‘Three minutes max. Last time I did it with a set of wings, wearing a pressure suit. Nearly got crushed and fried.’ ‘Fried?’

‘Let me guess,’ said Artemis. ‘The fissure only opens when the rock has contracted sufficiently. If this fissure is on a chute wall, then the coolest time would be moments before the next flare.’ Mulch winked. ‘Smart, Mud Boy. If the rocks don’t get you, the magma will.’ Holly’s voice crackled over the com speakers. ‘I’ve got a visual on something. Could be a shadow, or it could just be a crack in the chute wall.’ Mulch did a little dance, looking very pleased with himself. Now, Julius, you can say it. I was right again! You owe me, Julius, you owe me.’ The commander rubbed the bridge of his nose. If he made it through this alive, he was never leaving the station again.

KOBOI LABORATORIES

Koboi Labs was surrounded by a ring of B’ wa Kell goblins. Armed to the teeth, tongues hanging out for blood. Cudgeon was hustled past roughly, prodded by a dozen barrels. The DNA cannons hung inoperative in their towers, for the moment. The second Cudgeon felt the B’ wa Kell had outlived its usefulness, then the guns would be reactivated.

The commander was taken to the inner sanctum, and forced to his knees before Opal and the B’ wa Kell generals. Once the soldiers had been dismissed, Cudgeon was back on his feet and in command.

‘Everything proceeds according to plan,’ he announced, crossing to stroke Opal’s cheek. ‘In an hour Haven will be ours.’ 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 swivelled 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 Operations’ room, ringing the booth. The Council is 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 dropped her a wink.

‘Soon,’ he mouthed silently. ‘Soon.’