The Arctic Incident

Foaly stepped out of the way to allow the technical crew access to their prisoner. The techies would tag the unconscious goblin with a subcutaneous sleeper. The sleeper contained microcapsules of a sedative agent and a tiny detonator. Once tagged, a criminal could be knocked out by computer if the LEP realized he was involved in an illegal situation.

“You know who’s probably behind this, don’t you?” said Holly.

Foaly rolled his eyes. “Oh let me guess. Captain Short’s archenemy, Master Artemis Fowl.”

“Well, who else could it be?”

“Take your pick. The People have been in contact with thousands of Mud Men over the years.”

“Is that so?” retorted Holly. “And how many that haven’t been mind-wiped?”

Foaly pretended to think about it, adjusting the foil hat jammed on his head to deflect any brain-probing signals that could be focused his way.

“Three,” he muttered eventually.

“Pardon?”

“Three, okay.”

“Exactly. Fowl and his pet gorillas. Artemis is behind this. Mark my words.”

“You’d just love that to be the case now, wouldn’t you? You’d finally get the chance to get your own back. You do remember what happened the last time the LEP went up against Artemis Fowl?”

“I remember. But that was last time.”

Foaly smirked. “I would remind you that he’ll be thirteen, now.”

Holly’s hand dropped to her buzz baton.

“I don’t care how old he is. One zap with this, and he’ll be sleeping like a baby.”

Foaly nodded toward the entrance. “I’d save my charges if I were you. You’re going to need them.”

Holly followed his gaze. Commander Julius Root was sweeping across the secured zone. The more he saw, the redder his face grew, hence the nickname Beetroot.

“Commander,” began Holly. “You need to see this.”

Root’s gaze silenced her. “What were you thinking?”

“Pardon me, sir?”

“Don’t give me that. I was in Ops for the whole thing. I was watching the video feed from your helmet.”

“Oh.”

“Oh hardly covers it, Captain!” Root’s buzz-cut gray hair was quivering with emotion. “This was supposed to be a surveillance mission. There were several backup squads sitting on their well-trained behinds only waiting for you to call. But no, Captain Short decides to take on the B’wa Kell on her own.”

“I had a man down, sir. There was no choice.”

“What was Verbil doing out there in the first place?”

For the first time, Holly’s gaze dropped. “I sent him out to do a thermal, sir. Just following regulations.”

Root nodded. “I just talked to the paramedic warlock. Verbil will be okay, but his flying days are over. There’ll be a tribunal of course.”

“Yes, sir. Understood.”

“A formality, I’m sure, but you know the Council.”

Holly knew the Council all too well. She would be the first LEP officer in history to be the subject of two simultaneous investigations.

“So what’s this I hear about a Class A?”

All contraband was classed. Class A was code for dangerous human technology. Power sources for instance.

“This way, sir.”

Holly lead them to the rear of the maintenance area, to the shuttle bay itself.

A translucent restricted-access Perspex dome had been erected in the shuttle bay. Holly pressed through the frosted entrance flaps.

“You see? This is serious.”

Root studied the evidence. In the shuttle’s cargo bay were crates of AA batteries. Holly selected a pack.

“Pencil batteries,” she said. “A common human power source. Crude, inefficient, and an environmental disaster. Twelve crates of them right here. Who knows how many are in the tunnels already?”

Root was unimpressed. “Forgive me for not quaking in my boots. So a few goblins get to play human video games. So what?”

Foaly had spotted the goblin’s softnose laser. “Oh no!” he said, checking the weapon.

“Exactly,” agreed Holly.

The commander did not appreciate being left out of the conversation. “Oh no!” he mimicked them. “I hope you’re just being melodramatic.”

“No, chief,” replied the centaur, somber for once. “This is deadly serious. The B’wa Kell are using human batteries to power the old softnose lasers. They’d only get about six shots per battery. But you give every goblin a pocketful of power cells, and that’s a lot of shots.”

“Softnose lasers? They were outlawed decades ago. Weren’t they all recycled?”

Foaly nodded. “Supposedly. My division supervised the meltdowns. Not that we considered it priority, they were originally powered by a single solar cell, with a life span of less than a decade. Obviously, somebody managed to sneak a few out of the recycling lockup.”

“Quite a few by the looks of all these batteries. That’s the last thing I need, goblins with softnoses.”