‘So what do you want, Opal? Or did you just call to chat about our schooldays?’
Opal took a long drink from a crystal glass. ‘I just called, Foaly, to let you know I’m watching, so don’t try anything. I also wanted to show you something from the security cameras downtown. This is live footage by the way, and Briar is with the Council right now, blaming you for it. Happy viewing.’
Opal’s face disappeared to be replaced by a high-angle view of downtown Haven. A tourist district, outside Spud’s Spud Emporium.
Generally, this area would be thronged with Atlantean couples taking photos of each other in front of the fountain. But not today, because today the square was a battleground. The B’wa Kell was waging open war with the LEP and, by the looks of things, it was a one-sided battle. The goblins were firing their
Softnose weapons, but the police were not shooting back. They just huddled behind whatever shelter they could find. Completely helpless.
Foaly’s jaw dropped. This was disastrous. And he was being blamed for everything. Of course, the thing about scapegoats was that they could not be left alive to protest their innocence. He had to get a message to Holly, and fast, or they were all dead fairies.
CHAPTER 10: TROUBLE AND STRIFE
Spud’s Spud Emporium was not a place you wanted to be on the best of days. The fries were greasy, the meat was mysterious and the milkshakes had gristly lumps. Nevertheless, the Emporium did a roaring trade, especially during the solstice.
At this precise moment, Captain Trouble Kelp would almost have preferred to be inside the fast-food joint, choking down a rubbery burger, than outside it dodging lasers. Almost.
With Root out of the picture, field command fell to Captain Kelp. Usually this was a responsibility he would have relished. But then again, usually he would have had the benefit of transport and weapons. Thankfully they still had communications.
Trouble and his patrol had been rousting B’wa Kell hot spots when they were bushwhacked by a hundred members of the reptilian triad. The goblins had positioned themselves on the rooftops, catching the LEP squad in a deadly crossfire from Softnose lasers and fireballs. Pretty complex thinking for the B’wa Kell. The average goblin found simultaneous scratching and spitting a challenge. They had to be getting their orders from someone.
Trouble and one of his junior corporals were pinned down behind a photo booth, while the remaining officers had managed to take cover in
Spud’s Emporium.
For the moment, they were keeping the goblins at bay with tasers and buzz batons. The tasers had a range of ten metres, and the buzz batons were only good for close quarters. Both ran on electric batteries and would run out eventually. After that they were down to rocks and bare fists. They didn’t even have the advantage of shielding as the B’wa Kell was equipped with LEP
combat helmets. Older models certainly, but still fitted with anti-shield filters.
A fireball arced over the booth, melting through the asphalt at their feet.
The goblins were wising up. Relatively speaking. Instead of trying to blast through the booth, they were lobbing missiles over it. Time was short now.
Trouble tapped his mike. ‘Kelp to base. Anything on weapons?’
‘Not a thing, Cap,’ came the reply. ‘Plenty of officers with nuthin to shoot
‘cept their fingers. We’re charging up the old ‘lectric guns, but that’s gonna take eight hours minimum. There are a coupla body-armour suits over in Recon. I’m having ‘em double-timed over to you right now. Five minutes. Tops.’
‘D’ArvitF swore the cap tain. They were going to have to move. Any second now this booth would fall apart and they would be sitting ducks for goblin fire. Beside him the corporal was quivering in terror.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ snapped Trouble. ‘Pull yourself together.’
‘You shut up, Trub,’ retorted his brother, Grub, through wobbly lips. ‘You were supposed to look out for me. Mummy said.’
Trouble waved a threatening finger. ‘It’s Captain Kelp while we’re on duty, Corporal. And for your information, I am looking out for you.’
‘Oh, this is looking out for me, is it?’ whined Grub, pouting.
Trouble didn’t know who annoyed him more, his kid brother or the goblins.
‘OK, Grub.This booth isn’t going to last much longer. We’ve got to make a break for the Emporium. Understand?’
Grub’s wobbling lip suddenly stiffened considerably. ‘No chance. I’m not moving. You can’t make me. I don’t mind if I stay here for the rest of my life.’
Trouble raised his visor. ‘Listen to me. Listen. The rest of your life is going to be about thirty seconds. We have to go.’
‘But the goblins, Trub.’
Captain Kelp grabbed his brother by the shoulders. ‘Don’t you worry about the goblins. You worry about my foot connecting with your behind if you slow down.’
Grub winced. He’d had that experience before. ‘We’re going to be all right, aren’t we, brother?’
Trouble winked. ‘Of course we are. I’m the captain, aren’t I?’
His little brother nodded, lip losing its stiffness.
‘Good. Now you point your nose at the door and go when I say. Got it?’
More nodding. Grub’s chin was bobbing faster than a woodpecker’s beak.
‘Right, Corporal. Standby. On my command. .'
Another fireball. Closer this time. Rising black smoke from Trouble’s rubber soles. The captain poked his nose around the wall. A laser burst almost gave him a third nostril. A steel sandwich board spun around the corner, dancing with the force of a dozen charges. Foto Finish the sign said.
Or Fot Finish to be precise. The V had been blasted out of it. Not laserproof then. But it would have to do.
Trouble snared the revolving board, draping it over his shoulders.
Armour, of sorts. The LEP suits were lined with micro-filaments that would dissipate neutrino blasts or even sonic bursts, but Softnoses hadn’t been used below ground for decades, so the suits hadn’t been designed to withstand them. A burst would tear through the LEP uniform like so much rice paper.
He poked his brother in the back. ‘Ready?’
Grub may have nodded, or it may have been that his entire body was shaking.
Trouble gathered his legs beneath him, adjusting the sandwich board across his chest and back. It would withstand a couple of rounds. After that, his own body would be providing cover for Grub.
Another fireball. Directly between them and the Emporium. In a moment, the flame would sink a hole in the tarmac. They had to go now.
Through the fire.
‘Seal your helmet!’
‘Why?’
‘Just seal it, Corporal.’
Grub did. You could argue with a brother, but not a commanding officer.
Trouble placed a hand on Grub’s back and pushed. Hard. ‘Go, go, go!’
They went, straight through the white heart of the flame. Trouble heard the filaments in his suit pop as they tried to cope with the heat. Boiling tar sucked at his boots, melting the rubber soles.
Then they were through, stumbling towards the double doors. Trouble scrubbed the soot from his visor. His men were waiting, huddled behind riot shields. Two paramedic warlocks had their gloves off, ready to lay on hands.
Ten metres to go.
