The Arctic Incident (16 page)

Mulch winked. “Smart, Mud Boy. If the rocks don’t get you, the magma will.”

Holly’s voice crackled over the com speakers.

“I’ve got a visual on something. Could be a shadow, or it could just be a crack in the chute wall.”

Mulch did a little dance, looking very pleased with himself. “Now, Julius, you can say it. I was right again! You owe me, Julius, you owe me.”

The commander rubbed the bridge of his nose. If he made it through this alive, he was never leaving the station again.

Koboi Labs were surrounded by a ring of B’wa Kell goblins. Armed to the teeth, tongues hanging out for blood. Cudgeon was hustled past roughly, prodded by a dozen barrels. The DNA cannons hung inoperative in their towers, for the moment. The second Cudgeon felt the B’wa Kell had outlived their usefulness, then the guns would be reactivated.

The commander was taken to the inner sanctum, and forced to his knees before Opal and the B’wa Kell generals. Once the soldiers had been dismissed, Cudgeon was back on his feet and in command.

“Everything proceeds according to plan,” he announced, crossing to stroke Opal’s cheek. “In an hour, Haven will be ours.”

General Scalene was not convinced. “It would be ours a lot faster if we had some Koboi blasters.”

Cudgeon sighed patiently. “We’ve been through this, General. The disruption signal knocks out all neutrino weapons. If you get blasters, so will the LEP.”

Scalene shuffled into a corner, licking his eyeballs.

Of course that was not the only reason for denying the goblins neutrino weapons. Cudgeon had no intention of arming a group he intended to betray. As soon as the B’wa Kell had disposed of the Council, Opal would return power to the LEP.

“How are things proceeding?”

Opal swiveled in her Hoverboy, legs curled beneath her.

“Deliciously. The main doors fell moments after you left to . . . negotiate.”

Cudgeon grinned. “Good thing I left. I might have been injured.”

“Captain Kelp has pulled his remaining forces into the weapons’ room, ringing the Operations Booth. The Council are in there, too.”

“Perfect,” said Cudgeon.

Another B’wa Kell general, Sputa, banged the conference table.

“No, Cudgeon. Far from perfect. Our brothers are wasting away in Howler’s Peak.”

“Patience, General Sputa,” said Cudgeon soothingly, actually laying a hand on the goblin’s shoulder. “As soon as Police Plaza falls, we can open the cells in Howler’s Peak without resistance.”

Internally Cudgeon fumed. These idiot creatures. How he detested them. Clothed in robes fashioned from their own cast-off skin. Repulsive. Cudgeon longed to reactivate the DNA cannons and stop their jabbering for a few sweet hours.

He caught Opal’s eye. She knew what he was thinking.

Her tiny teeth showed in anticipation. What a delightfully vicious creature. Which was, of course, why she had to be disposed of. Opal Koboi could never be happy as second in command.

He winked at her.

“Soon,” he mouthed silently. “Soon.”

CHAPTER 13

An LEP shuttle is shaped like a teardrop, bottom heavy with thrusters, and with a nose that could cut through steel. Of course, our heroes weren’t in an LEP shuttle, they were in the ambassador’s luxury cruiser. Comfort was definitely favored over speed. It had a nose like a gnome’s behind. Bulky and expensive looking, with a grille you could use to barbecue buffalo.

“So, you’re saying this fissure is going to open up for a couple of minutes, and I have to fly through. And that’s the entire plan?” said Holly.

“It’s the best we’ve got,” said Root glumly.

“Well, at least we’ll be in padded seats when we get squashed. This thing handles like a three-legged rhinoceros.”

“How was I to know?” grumbled Root. “This was supposed to be a routine run. This shuttle has an excellent stereo.”

Butler raised his hand. “Listen. What’s that sound?”

They listened. The noise came from below them, like a giant clearing its throat.

Holly consulted the keel cams.

“Flare,” she announced. “Big sucker. It’ll be roasting our tail feathers any minute.”

The rock face before them cracked and groaned in constant expansion and contraction. Fissures heaved like grinning mouths lined with black teeth.

“That’s it. Let’s go,” urged Mulch. “That fissure is going to seal up faster than a stink worm’s—”

“Not enough room yet,” snapped Holly. “This is a shuttle, not one fat dwarf riding stolen wings.”

Mulch was too scared to be insulted.

“Just move it. It’ll widen as we go.”

Generally Holly would have waited for Root to give the green light. But this was her area. No one was going to argue with Captain Holly Short at the controls of a shuttle.

The chasm shuddered open another few feet.

Holly gritted her teeth. “Hold on to your ears,” she said, ramming the thrusters to maximum.

The craft’s occupants clutched their armrests, and more than one closed his eyes. But not Artemis. He couldn’t. There was something morbidly fascinating about flying into an uncharted tunnel at a reckless speed, with only a kleptomaniac dwarf’s word for what lay at the other end.

Holly concentrated on her instruments. Hull cameras and sensors fed information to various screens and speakers. Sonar was going crazy, beeping so fast it was almost a continuous whine. Fixed halogen headlights fed frightening images to the monitors, and laser radar drew a green 3-D line picture on a dark screen. Then of course, there was the quartz windshield. But with sheets of rock dust and larger debris, the naked eye was next to useless.

“Temperature increasing,” she muttered, glancing at the rearview monitor. An orange magma column blasted past the fissure mouth, spilling over into the tunnel.

They were in a desperate race. The fissure was closing behind them, and expanding before the craft’s prow. The noise was terrific. Thunder in a bubble.

Mulch covered his ears. “Next time, I’ll take Howler’s Peak.”

“Quiet, convict,” growled Root. “This was all your idea.”

Their arguing was interrupted by a tremendous grating sound, and a shower of sparks that danced across the windshield.

“Sorry,” apologized Captain Short. “There goes our communications array.”

She flipped the craft sideways, scraping between two shifting plates. The plates crashed behind them. A giant’s handclap.

The magma’s heat coated the rock face, dragging the plates together. A jagged edge clipped the shuttle’s rear. Butler held his weapon. It was a comfort thing.

Then they were through. Spiraling into a cavern toward three enormous titanium rods.

“There,” gasped Mulch. “The foundation rods.”

Holly rolled her eyes.

“You don’t say,” she groaned, firing the docking clamps.

Mulch had drawn another diagram. This one looked like a bendy snake.

“We’re being led by an idiot with a crayon,” said Root, with deceptive calmness.

“I got you this far, didn’t I, Julius?” pouted Mulch.

Holly was finishing the last bottle of mineral water. A good third of it went over her head.

“Don’t you dare start sulking, dwarf,” she said. “As far as I can see we’re stuck in the center of the earth, with no way out and no communications.”

Mulch backed up a step. “I can see you’re a bit tense after the flight. Let’s all calm down now, shall we?”

Nobody looked very calm. Even Artemis seemed slightly shaken by their ordeal.

“That’s the hard bit over. We’re in the foundations now. The only way is up.”

“Oh, really, convict?” said Root. “And how do you suggest we go up exactly?”

Mulch plucked a carrot from the larder, waving it at his diagram. “This here is . . .”

“A snake?”

“No, Julius. It’s one of the foundation rods.”

“The solid titanium foundation rods, sunk in impregnable bedrock?”

“The very ones. Except one isn’t solid. Exactly.”

Artemis nodded. “I thought so. You cut corners on this work, didn’t you, Mulch?”

Mulch was unrepentant. “You know what building regulations are like. Solid titanium pillars? Do you have any idea how expensive that is? Threw our estimate right off. So me and cousin Nord decided to forget the titanium packing.”

“But you had to fill that column with something,” interrupted the commander. “Koboi would have run scans.”

Mulch nodded guiltily.

“We hooked up the sewage pipes to it for a couple of days. The sonographs came up clean.”

Holly felt her throat clench. “Sewage. You mean ...”

“No. Not anymore. That was a hundred years ago, it’s just clay now. Very good clay, as it happens.”

Root’s face could have boiled a large cauldron of water. “You expect us to climb through twenty yards of . . . manure.”

The dwarf shrugged. “Hey, do I care? Stay here forever if you want, I’m going up the pipe.”

Artemis did not like this sudden turn of events. Running, jumping, injury, okay. But sewage?

“
This
is your plan?” he managed to mutter.

“What’s the matter, Mud Boy?” smirked Mulch. “Afraid of getting your hands dirty?”

It was only a figure of speech, Artemis knew. But true nevertheless. He glanced at his slender fingers. Yesterday morning they had been pianist’s fingers, with manicured nails. Today they could have belonged to a builder.

Holly clapped Artemis on the shoulder.

“Okay,” she declared. “Let’s do it. As soon as we save the Lower Elements, we can get back to rescuing your father.”

Holly noticed a change in Artemis’s face. Almost as if his features weren’t sure how to arrange themselves. She paused, realizing what she had said. For her, the remark had been a casual encouragement, the kind of thing an officer said every day. But it seemed as though Artemis was not accustomed to being a member of a team.

“Don’t think I’m getting chummy, or anything. It’s just that when I give my word, I stick to it.”

Artemis decided not to respond. He’d already been punched once today.

They descended from the shuttle on a folding stairway.

Artemis stepped onto the surface, picking his way through the jagged stones and construction debris abandoned by Mulch and his cousin a century earlier. The cavern was lit by the starlike twinkle of rock phosphorescence.

“This place is a geological marvel,” he exclaimed. “The pressure at this depth should be crushing us, but it isn’t.”

He knelt to examine a fungus sprouting from a rusting paint tin.

“There’s even life.”

Mulch wrenched the remains of a hammer from between two rocks.

“So that’s where this got to. We overdid it a bit on the explosives, blasting the shaft for these columns. Some of our waste must have . . . fallen down here.”

Holly was appalled. Pollution is an abomination to the People.

“You’ve broken so many laws here, Mulch, I don’t even have the fingers to count them. When you get that two-day head start, you’d better move fast, because I’m going to be the one chasing you.”

“Here we are,” said Mulch, ignoring the threat. When you’d heard as many as he had, they just rolled right off.

There was a hole bored into one of the columns. Mulch rubbed the edges fondly.

“Diamond laser cutter. Little nuclear battery. That baby could cut through anything.”

“I remember that cutter too,” said Root. “You nearly decapitated me with it once.”

Mulch sighed. “Happy days, eh, Julius?”

Root’s reply was a swift kick in the behind.

“Less talk, more eating dirt, convict.”

Holly placed her hand into the hole.

“Air currents. The pressure field from the city must have equalized this cave over the years. That’s why we’re not flat as manta rays right now.”

“I see,” said Butler and Root simultaneously. Another lie for the list.

Mulch undid his back flap.

“I’ll tunnel up to the top and wait for you there. Clear as much of the debris as you can. I’ll spread the recycled mud around, to avoid closing up the shaft.”

Artemis groaned. The idea of crawling through Mulch’s
recyclings
was almost intolerable. Only the thought of his father kept him going.

Mulch stepped into the shaft. “Stand back,” he warned, unhinging his jaw.

Butler moved quickly, he was not about to get nailed by dwarf gas again.

Mulch disappeared up to his waist in the titanium column. In moments he had disappeared entirely. The pipe began to shudder with strange, unappetizing sounds. Chunks of clay clattered against the metal walls. A constant stream of condensed air and debris spiraled from the hole.

“Amazing,” breathed Artemis. “What I could do with ten like him. Fort Knox would be a pushover.”

“Don’t even think about it,” warned Root. He turned to Butler. “What have we got?”

The manservant drew his pistol.

“This is it. I’ll take the gun, since I’m the only one who can lift it. You two pick up whatever you can on the run.”

“And what about me?” asked Artemis, even though he knew what was coming.

Butler looked his master straight in the eye.

“I want you to stay here. This is a military operation. All you can do is get yourself killed.”

“But ...”

“My job is to protect you, Artemis, and this is quite possibly the safest spot on the planet.”

Artemis didn’t argue. In truth, these facts had already occurred to him. Sometimes being a genius was a burden.

“Very well, Butler. I shall remain here. Unless . . .”

Butler’s eyes narrowed. “Unless what?”

Artemis smiled his dangerous smile. “Unless I have an idea.”

In Police Plaza the situation was desperate. Captain Kelp had pulled the remaining forces into a circle behind overturned workstations. The goblins were taking potshots through the doorway, and none of the warlocks had a drop of magic left in them. Anyone who got injured from now on would stay injured.

The Council were huddled behind a wall of troops, all except Wing Commander Vinyáya, who had demanded to be given one of the electronic rifles. She hadn’t missed yet.

The techs were crouched behind their desks, trying every code combination in the book to gain access to the Operations Booth. Trouble didn’t hold out much hope on that front. If Foaly locked a door, then it stayed locked.

Meanwhile, inside the booth all the centaur could do was pound his fists in frustration. It was a sign of Cudgeon’s cruelty that he allowed Foaly to view the battle beyond the blast windows.

It seemed hopeless. Even if Julius and Holly had received his message, it was too late now to do anything. Foaly’s lips and throat were dry. Everything had deserted him. His computer, his intellect, his glib sarcasm. Everything.

Something wet slapped Butler in the head.

“What was that?” he hissed at Holly, who was bringing up the rear.

“Don’t ask,” croaked Captain Short. Even through her helmet filters, the smell was foul.

The contents of the column had had a century to ferment, and smelled as toxic as the day they went in. Probably worse. At least, thought the bodyguard, I don’t have to eat this stuff.

Root was in the lead, his helmet lights cutting swathes through the darkness. The pillar was on a forty-degree angle with regular grooves that were intended to anchor the titanium block filling.

Mulch had done a sterling job of breaking down the pipe’s contents. But the recycling had to go somewhere. Mulch, in fairness to him, chewed every mouthful thoroughly to avoid too many lumps.

The raiding party struggled on grimly, trying not to think about what they were actually doing. By the time they caught up with the dwarf, he was clinging to a ridge, face constricted in pain.

“What is it, Mulch?” asked Root, concern accidentally slipping into his tones.

“Geddup,” Mulch groaned. “Geddup rih now.”

Root’s eyes widened with something approaching panic.

“Up!” he hissed. “Everybody up!”

They scrambled into the tight wedge of space above the dwarf. Not a second too soon. Mulch relaxed, releasing a burst of dwarf gas that could have inflated a circus tent. He rehinged his jaw.

“That’s better,” he sighed. “Lotta air in that soil. Now would you mind getting that beam out of my face. You know how I feel about light.”

The commander obliged, switching to infrared.

“Okay, now we’re up here. How do we get out? You didn’t bring your cutter, I seem to remember.”

The dwarf grinned. “No problem. A good thief always plans on a return visit. See here.”

Mulch was pointing to a patch of titanium that seemed exactly like the rest of the pipe. “I patched this up last time. It’s just flexi-bond.”

Root had to smile. “You are a cunning reprobate. How did we ever catch you?”

“Luck,” replied the dwarf, elbowing a section of the pipe. A large circle popped out, revealing the hundred-year-old hole. “Welcome to Koboi Labs.”

They clambered into a dimly lit corridor. Loaded hover trolleys were stacked four deep around the walls. Strip lighting operated at minimum illumination overhead.

“I know this place,” noted Root. “I’ve been here before on inspection for the special weapons permits. We’re two corridors across from the computer center. We have a real chance of making it.”