“Let’s not celebrate just yet,” said Holly, checking her instruments. “Those missiles should have detonated against the chute wall, but they didn’t. I can only think of one reason why they wouldn’t keep traveling in a straight line.”
“If they acquired another target,” offered Butler.
A red dot appeared on the plasma screen. The two missiles were headed directly for it.
“Exactly. That’s an LEP supersonic attack shuttle, and as far as they’re concerned, we’ve just opened fire on them.”
* * *
Major Trouble Kelp was behind the wheel of the LEP attack shuttle. The craft was traveling at more than three times the speed of sound, booming along the chute like a silver needle. Supersonic flights were very rarely cleared, as they could cause cave-ins and, in rare cases, be detected by human seismographic equipment.
The shuttle’s interior was filled with impact-gel to dampen the otherwise bone-breaking vibration. Major Kelp was suspended in the gel in a modified pilot’s suit. The ship’s controls were connected directly to his gloves, and the video ran in to his helmet.
Foaly was in constant contact from Police Plaza.
“Be advised that the stolen shuttle is back in the chute,” he informed Trouble. “It’s hovering at one hundred and twenty-five miles.”
“I have it,” said Trouble, locating the dot on his radar. He felt his heart race. There was a chance that Holly was alive and aboard that shuttle. And if that were true, he would do whatever it took to bring her home safely.
A sunburst of white, yellow, and orange flared on his scopes.
“We have an explosion of some kind. Was it the stolen shuttle?”
“No, Trouble. It came from nowhere. There was nothing there. Watch out for debris.”
The screen was streaked with dozens of jagged yellow lines, as hot metal shards plummeted toward the center of the earth. Trouble activated the nose lasers, ready for anything that might head his way. It was unlikely that his vessel would be threatened; the chute was wider than the average city at this depth. The debris from the explosion would not spread more than half a mile. He had plenty of time to steer himself out of harm’s way.
Unless some of the debris followed him. Two of the yellow streaks were veering unnaturally in his direction. The onboard computer ran a scan. Both items had propulsion and guidance systems. Missiles.
“I am under fire,” he said into his microphone. “Two missiles incoming.”
Had Holly fired on him? Was it true what Sool said? Had she really gone bad?
Trouble reached into the air and tapped a virtual screen. He touched the representations for both missiles, targeting them for destruction. As soon as they came into range, the computer would hit them with a beam of laser fire. Trouble steered into the middle of the chute so that the lasers would have the longest possible line of fire. Lasers were only any good in a straight line.
Three minutes later, the missiles powered around the bend in the chute. Trouble barely spared them a glance, and the computer loosed two quick bursts, dispatching the missiles efficiently. Major Kelp flew straight through the shock wave, insulated by layers of impact-gel.
Another screen opened in his visor. It was the newly promoted Commander Ark Sool. “Major, you are authorized to return fire. Use all necessary force.”
Trouble scowled. “But, Commander, Holly may be on board.”
Sool raised a hand, silencing all objections. “Captain Short has made her allegiances clear. Fire at will.”
Foaly could not remain silent. “Hold your fire, Trouble. You know Holly isn’t behind all of this. Somehow Opal Koboi fired those missiles.”
Sool pounded the desk. “How can you be so blind to the truth, donkey boy? What does Short have to do to convince you she’s a traitor? Send you an e-mail? She has murdered her commander, allied herself with a felon, and fired on an LEP shuttle. Blast her out of the air.”
“No!” insisted Foaly. “It sounds bad, I grant you. But there must be another explanation. Just give Holly a chance to tell us what it is.”
Sool was apoplectic. “Shut up, Foaly! What are you doing giving tactical orders? You are a civilian, now get off the line.”
“Trouble, listen to me,” began Foaly, but that was all he managed to say before Sool cut him off.
“Now,” said the commander, calming himself. “You have your orders. Fire on that shuttle.”
The stolen shuttle was actually in view now. Trouble magnified its image in his visor and immediately noticed three things. First, the shuttle’s communications mast was missing. Second, this was a transport shuttle and not rigged for missiles, and third, he could actually see Holly Short in the cockpit, her face drawn and defiant.
“Commander Sool,” he said. “I think we have some extenuating circumstances here.”
“I said fire!” screeched Sool. “You will obey me.”
“Yes, sir,” said Trouble, and fired.
Holly had watched the radar screen, following Opal’s missiles through unblinking eyes. Her fingers had gripped the steering wheel until the rubber squeaked. She did not relax until the needle-like attack shuttle destroyed the missiles and coasted through the wreckage.
“No problem,” she said, smiling bright eyed at the rest of the crew.
“Not for him,” said Artemis. “But perhaps for us.”
The attack shuttle hovered off their port bow, sleek and deadly, bathing them with a dozen spotlights. Holly squinted into the pale light, trying to see who was in the captain’s chair. A tube opened and a metallic cone nosed out.
“That’s not good,” said Mulch. “They’re going to fire at us.”
But strangely, Holly smiled. It is good, she thought. Someone down there likes me.
The communications spike traveled the short distance between the two shuttles, burying itself in the stolen craft’s hull. A quick-drying sealant erupted from nozzles at the base of the spike, sealing the breach, and the nose cone unscrewed itself and dropped to the floor with a clang. Underneath was a conical speaker.
Trouble Kelp’s voice filled the room. “Captain Short, I have orders to blow you out of the air. Orders that I’d just as soon disobey. So start talking, and give me enough information to save both our careers.”
So Holly talked. She gave Trouble the condensed version. How this entire affair was orchestrated by Opal, and how they would pick her up if they searched the chute.
“That’s enough to keep you alive, for now,” said Trouble. “Though, officially, you and any other shuttle occupants are under arrest until we find Opal Koboi.”
Artemis cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I don’t believe you have any jurisdiction over humans. It would be illegal to arrest me or my associate.”
Tro
uble sighed. Over the speaker it sounded like a rasp of sandpaper. “Let me guess: Artemis Fowl, right? I should have known. You people are becoming quite the team. Well, let’s say you are a guest of the LEP, if that makes you any happier. Now, a Retrieval squad is in the chute. They will take care of Opal and her associates. You follow me back to Haven.”
Holly wanted to object. She wanted to catch Opal herself. She wanted the personal pleasure of tossing the poisonous pixie into an actual jail cell. And then throw away the key. But their position was precarious enough as it was, so for once she decided to follow orders.
CHAPTER 11
A LAST GOOD-BYE
E7, Haven City
Once they reached Haven, a squad of LEP foot soldiers boarded the shuttle to secure the prisoners. The police swaggered on board, barking orders. Then they saw Butler, and their cockiness evaporated like rainwater from a hot highway. They had been told that the human was big. But this was more than big. This was monstrous. Mountainous.
Butler smiled apologetically. “Don’t worry, little fairies. I have this effect on most humans too.”
The police breathed a collective sigh of relief when Butler agreed to go quietly. They could possibly have subdued him if he had put up a fight, but then the massive Mud Man might have fallen on someone.
The detainees were housed in the shuttleport’s executive lounge, evicting several grumbling lawyers and businessfairies. It was all very civil: good food, clean clothes (not for Butler), and entertainment centers. But they were under guard, nevertheless.
Half an hour later, Foaly burst in to the lounge.
“Holly!” he said, wrapping a hairy arm around the elf. “I am so happy that you’re alive.”
“Me too, Foaly.” Holly grinned.
“A little hello wouldn’t hurt,” said Mulch sulkily. “‘How are you, Mulch? Long time no see, Mulch. Here’s your medal, Mulch.’”
“Oh, all right,” said Foaly, wrapping the other hairy arm around the equally hairy dwarf. “Nice to see you too, Mulch, even if you did sink one of my subs. And no, no medal.”