The Arctic Incident

“Oh, no,” said Butler.

Artemis was at his side in an instant. “What is it?”

“Your father is in the water. The Russian threw him in.”

The boy groaned. That water was as deadly as any bullet. He’d been afraid that something like this would happen.

Root had been following the rescue attempt. “Okay. She’s over the water. Can you see him, Holly?”

No answer. Just static in his earphones.

“Status, Captain? Respond.”

Nothing.

“Holly?”

She’s not talking because it’s too late, thought Artemis.

There’s nothing she can do to save my father, and it’s all my fault.

Root’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“The Russians are evacuating,” he said. “Holly’s at the sub now, over the hole in the ice. She’s going in. Holly, what have you got? Come on, Holly. Talk to me.”

Nothing. For the longest time.

Then Holly erupted through the ice like a mechanized dolphin. She arced briefly through the Arctic night, crash landing on the Nikodim’s deck.

“She has your father,” said the commander.

Artemis slipped on the spare Recon helmet, willing Holly’s voice to sound through the speakers. He magnified the picture in his visor until it seemed as though he could touch his father. Artemis watched Holly lean over his father’s chest, pulses of magic shooting down her fingers.

After several moments, Holly looked up, straight into Artemis’s eyes, as though she knew he was watching.

“I got him,” she gasped. “One live Mud Man. He’s not pretty, but he’s breathing.”

Artemis sank to the ground, sobs of relief shaking his thin shoulders. He cried for a whole minute. Then he was himself again.

“Well done, Captain. Now let’s get out of here before Foaly activates one of these incinerator packs by accident.”

In the bowels of the earth, the centaur leaned back from his communications console.

“Don’t tempt me,” he chuckled.





AN EPILOGUE, OR TWO


Tara


Artemis was heading back to Saint Bartleby’s. This was where he had to be when the Helsinki medical services identified his father from the suitably weathered passport Foaly had run up for him.

Holly had done her best for the injured man, healing his chest wound and even restoring sight to his blinded eye. But Artemis Senior needed prolonged medical attention, and it had to begin somewhere that could be rationally explained. So Holly had flown southwest to Helsinki, depositing the unconscious man at the doors of the University Hospital. One porter had spotted the flying patient, but he had been successfully mind-wiped.

When Artemis Senior regained consciousness, his the past two years would be a blur, and his most recent memory would be a happy one: bidding his family farewell at Dublin Harbor. Thanks again to Foaly and his mind-wiping technology.

“Why don’t I just move in with you?” the centaur had quipped when they returned to Police Plaza. “Do your ironing while I’m at it.”

Artemis smiled. He had been doing that a lot lately. Even the parting with Holly had gone better than he could have expected, considering she’d seen him shoot his own father. Artemis shuddered. He anticipated many sleepless nights over that particular strategy.

The captain escorted them to Tara, slipping them out through a holographic hedge. There was even a holographic cow chewing the virtual leaves to throw humans off the fairy scent.

Artemis was back in his school uniform, which had been miraculously restored by the People’s technology. He sniffed his lapel.

“This blazer smells unusual,” he commented. “Not unpleasant, but unusual.”

“It’s completely clean,” smiled Holly. “Foaly had to put it through three cycles in the machine to purge—”

“To purge the Mud Man from it,” said Artemis.

“Exactly.”

There was a full moon overhead, bright and pocked like a golf ball. Holly could feel its magic singing to her.

“Foaly said, in light of the help you’ve given us, he’s pulling the surveillance on Fowl Manor.”