Artemis Fowl: the time paradox

‘The water is pretty clean, thanks to Shelly. I’m getting a decent picture.’

Holly topped up her suit buoyancy a few notches until she was at neutral, and hung in the water as still as she could.

‘Well, what do you see?’

‘The same as you,’ replied the centaur. ‘A sensor with a flashing red light. I need to take a few readings, if you wouldn’t mind touching the screen.’

Holly laid her palm on the gel so that the omni-sensor on her glove could sync with the ancient instrument.

‘Nine and a half minutes, Foaly, don’t forget.’

‘Please,’ snickered the centaur. ‘I could recalibrate a fleet of satellites in nine and a half minutes.’

It was probably true, thought Holly as her helmet ran a systems check on the sensor.

‘Hmm,’ sighed Foaly, thirty seconds later.

‘Hmm?’ repeated Holly nervously. ‘Don’t hmm, Foaly. Dazzle me with science, but don’t hmm.’

‘There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with this sensor. It is remarkably functional. Which means …’

‘That the other three sensors are malfunctioning,’ concluded Holly. ‘So much for your genius.’

‘I did not design these sensors,’ said Foaly, wounded. ‘They’re old Koboi gear.’

Holly shuddered, her body jerking in the water. Her old enemy Opal Koboi had been one of the People’s leading innovators, until she’d decided that she would prefer to pursue all criminal avenues to crown herself queen of the world instead. Now she was housed in a specially constructed isolation prison cube suspended in Atlantis, and spent her time shooting off mails to politicians pleading for early release.

‘Apologies, old friend, for doubting your wonderful-ness. I suppose I should check the other sensors. Above sea level, I do hope.’

‘Hmm,’ said Foaly again.

‘Please stop that. Surely, now I am here, I should check the remaining sensors?’

Silence for a moment while Foaly accessed a few files, then he spoke in hitched phrases as the information opened before him. ‘The other sensors… are not the pressing issue… right now. What we really need to know… is why would Shelly be red-lining on this sensor. Let me just see… if we have ever had these kinds of readings before.’

Holly had no choice but to maintain contact with the sensor, legs swaying underneath her, watching the air clock on her visor run down.

‘OK,’ said Foaly finally. ‘Two reasons for a kraken’s readings to red-line. One, Shelly is having a baby kraken, which is impossible since he’s a sterile male.’

‘That leaves two,’ said Holly, who was certain that she would not like the second reason.

‘And two, he’s shedding.’

Holly rolled her eyes in relief. ‘Shedding. That doesn’t sound so bad.’

‘Weeeellll, it’s a little worse than it sounds.’

‘What do you mean, a little?’

‘Why don’t I explain as you fly away, as fast as you can.’

Holly did not need to be told twice. When Foaly advised an officer to leave before he delivered one of his beloved lectures, then the situation was serious. She spread her arms wide and the action was mimicked by the wings on her back.

‘Engage,’ she said, pointing both arms to the surface, and the engines ignited, blasting her clear of the Baltic, boiling the water wake as it hung in the air. Her suit was instantly dry as moisture slipped from its non-stick material and air resistance tugged at any remaining drops. In seconds she had climbed to a hundred metres, the anxiety in Foaly’s voice hurrying her along.

‘A kraken sheds its shell once, and records show that Shelly dumped his three thousand years ago, so we presumed that was that.’

‘But now?’

‘Now it seems as though Shelly has lived long enough to do it again.’

‘And why are we concerned about this?’

‘We are concerned about this because kraken shed very explosively. The new shell has already grown and Shelly will get rid of the old one by igniting a layer of methane cells and blasting it off’’

Holly wanted to be sure she understood what was being said. ‘So you’re saying that Shelly is going to light a fart?’

‘No, Shelly is going to light the fart. He has stored enough methane to power Haven for a year. There hasn’t been a fart like this since the last dwarf tribal gathering.’

A computer representation of the explosion appeared in her visor. To most fairies the image would be little more than a blur, but LEP officers were forced to develop the double focus necessary to read their screens and watch where they were going at the same time.

When the simulation put Holly clear of the projected blast radius, she dropped her boots, swinging in a loose ascending arc to face the kraken.

‘Isn’t there something we can do?’

‘Besides take a couple of pictures, nope. Too late for that. Only a few minutes to go. Shelly’s inner shell is already at ignition temperature, so put your glare filter down and watch the show.’

Holly lowered her shade. ‘This is going to make the news all over the world. Islands don’t just explode.’

‘Yes, they do. Volcanic activity, gas leaks, chemical accidents. Believe me, if there’s one thing the Mud Men do know, it’s how to explain away an explosion. The Americans invented Area Fifty-one just because a senator crashed a jet into a mountain.’

‘The mainland is safe?’

‘Should be. A little shrapnel maybe.’

Holly relaxed, hanging from her wings. There was nothing she could do, nothing she should do. This was a natural process and the kraken had every right to shed its shell.

Methane explosions. Mulch would love this.

Mulch Diggums was currently running a private investigations office in Haven with the pixie wheel-fairy, Doodah Day. Mulch had, in his time, caused some methane disturbances himself.

Something pulsed gently in Holly’s visor. A plasma splodge of red in the thermal-sweep windows. There was life on the island, and not just insect or rodent. Multiple humans.

‘Foaly. I have something.’

Holly resized the window with a series of blink commands to track down the source. There were four hot bodies inside the sauna.

‘Inside the sauna, Foaly. How did we miss them?’

‘Their bodies were at the same temperature as the brick walls,’ replied the centaur. ‘I’m guessing that one of the Mud Men opened the door.’

Holly magnified her visor to plus six and saw that the sauna door was open a crack, a wedge of steam pushing through the gap. The building was cooling faster than the humans, and so now they showed up separately on her scanner.

‘What are those Mud Men doing here? You said nothing opens until eight.’

‘I don’t know, Holly. How would I know? They’re humans. About as reliable as moon-mad demons.’

It didn’t matter why the humans were there — and wondering about it was a waste of time.

‘I have to go back, Foaly.’

Foaly put a camera on himself, broadcasting his live image to Holly’s helmet.

‘Look at my face, Holly. Do you see this expression? That’s my stern face. Do not do it, Holly. Do not return to the island. Humans die every day and we do not interfere. The LEP never interferes.’

‘I know the rules,’ said Holly, muting the growling centaur.

There goes my career — again, she thought, angling her wings for a steep dive.