Affairs.’
Sool tapped the golden acorns on his lapel. ‘I’ve been promoted.’
Foaly blanched. ‘You’re the new Recon commander.’
Sool’s smile could have illuminated a dark room. ‘Yes. The Council felt that Recon has been getting a bit out of hand lately. They felt — and I must say I agree — that Recon needs a firm hand. Of course, I will stay on at Internal Affairs until a suitable replacement can be found.’
Foaly scowled. There was no time for this. Not now. He had to get clearance for a supersonic launch immediately.
‘OK, Sool, Commander. I can lodge my objection later. Right now we have an emergency on our hands.’
Everyone was listening now. But none with much enthusiasm except Wing Commander Vinyaya, who had always been a staunch supporter of Julius Root and would certainly have not voted for Sool. Vinyaya was all ears. ‘What’s the emergency, Foaly?’ she asked.
Foaly slipped a computer disk into the room’s multi-drive. ‘That thing in the
Argon Clinic is not Opal Koboi, it’s a clone.’
‘Evidence?’ demanded Sool.
Foaly highlighted a window on the screen. ‘I scanned her retinas and found that the last image the clone saw was Opal Koboi herself. Obviously during her escape.’
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.
