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 round 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 back-up 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 they 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. ‘OK. Now we can shoot. But what if we get shot?’
‘You won’t get shot,’ insisted Foaly. ‘I’ve hacked into the terminal scanners, and
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.’
‘OK, OK. 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 lifted two sealed suitcases on to 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’d better have them today.’
Holly pulled a jumpsuit from the case. It glittered briefly, then turned the colour of the van walls.
‘The fabric is actually woven from cam foil, so you are virtually hidden all the time. It saves you using your magical shield,’ explained Foaly. ‘Of course the function can be turned off. The wings are built into this suit. A completely retractable whisper design, a brand new concept in wing construction. They take their power from a cell on your belt, and of course each wing is coated with mini-solars for above-ground flights.
The suits also have their own pressure equalizers, so you can go directly from one environment to another without getting the bends.’
Root held the second suit in front of him. ‘These must cost a fortune.’
Foaly nodded. ‘You have no idea. Half of my research budget for last year went on developing these suits. They won’t replace the old suit for five years at least. These two are the only operational models we have, so I would appreciate having them back.
They are shockproof, fire-resistant, invisible to radar and relay a continuous stream of diagnostic information back to Police Plaza. The current LEP helmet sends us basic vitals data, but the new suit sends a second stream of information that can tell us if your arteries are blocked, diagnose fractured bones and even detect dry skin. It’s a flying clinic. There’s even a bulletproof plate on the chest, in case a human shoots at you.’
Holly held the suit in front of a green plasma screen. The cam foil instantly turned emerald.
‘I like it,’ she said. ‘Green is my colour.’
Trouble Kelp had commandeered some spotlights left on-site by the movie company, and he directed them into the shuttle port’s lower level. The stark light picked out every floating speck of dust, giving the entire departures area an underwater feel.
Commander Root and Captain Short edged into the room, weapons drawn and visors down.
‘What do you think of the suit?’ asked Holly, automatically keeping track of the various displays on the inside of her visor. LEP trainees often had difficulties developing the double focus needed to watch both the terrain and their helmet screens. This often resulted in an action known as ‘filling the vase’, which was how LEP officers referred to throwing up in one’s helmet.
‘Not bad,’ replied Root. ‘Light as a feather, and you wouldn’t even know you were wearing wings. Don’t tell Foaly I said that, his head is swelled enough as it is.’
‘No need to tell me, Commander,’ said Foaly’s voice in his earpiece. The speakers were a new, gel-vibration variety, and it sounded as though the centaur were in the helmet with him. ‘I’m with you every step of the way, from the safety of the shuttle, of course.’
‘Of course,’ said Root dourly.
The pair advanced cautiously past a line of check-in booths. Foaly had assured them that there was no possible danger in this area of the terminal, but the centaur had been wrong before. And mistakes in the field cost lives.
The film company had decided that the actual dirt in the terminal was not authentic enough, so they had sprayed piles of grey foam in various corners. They had even added a doll’s head to one mound. A poignant touch, or so they thought. The walls and escalator were blackened with fake laser burns.
‘Quite a shooting match,’ said Root, grinning.
‘Slightly exaggerated. I doubt if half a dozen shots were fired.’
They proceeded through the embarkation area into the docking zone. The original shuttle used by the goblins in their smuggling runs had been resurrected, and it lay in the docking bay. The shuttle had been painted gloss black to make it seem more menacing, and a goblinesque decorated prow had been added to its nose.
‘How far?’ said Root, into his mike.
‘I’m transferring the thermal signature to your helmets,’ replied Foaly.
Seconds later, a schematic appeared in their visors. The plan was slightly confusing as, in effect, they were looking down on themselves. There were three heat sources in the building. Two were close together, moving slowly towards the chute itself. Holly and the commander. The third figure was stationary in the access tunnel.
Metres past the third figure, the thermo scan was whited out by the ambient heat from E37.
They reached the blast doors, two metres of solid steel that separated the access tunnel from the rest of the terminal. Shuttles and titanium eggs would glide in on a magnetized rail, to be dropped into the chute itself. The doors were sealed.
‘Can you open these remotely, Foaly?’
‘But of course, Commander. I have managed, quite ingeniously, to marry my operating system with the terminal’s old computers. That wasn’t as easy as it sounds —’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ said the commander, cutting Foaly off. ‘Just push the button, before I come out there and push it with your face.’
‘Some things never change,’ muttered Foaly, pushing the button.
The access tunnel smelled like a blast furnace. Ancient swirls of melted ore hung from the roof and the ground underfoot was cracked and treacherous. Each footfall punctured a crust of soot, leaving a trail of deep footprints. There was another set of footprints — leading to the shadowy figure huddled on the ground, a short distance from the chute itself.
‘There,’ said Root.
‘Got him,’ said Holly, resting the bullseye of her laser sight on the figure’s trunk.
‘Keep him covered,’ ordered the commander. ‘I’m going down.’
Root advanced along the tunnel, keeping well out of Holly’s line of fire. If Scalene did make a move, Holly
