CHAPTER NINE: Desecration
POLICE PLAZA, HAVEN CITY; NOW
Foaly held his breath as the nameless, faceless officer walked into his inner sanctum. This was a momentous occasion; a challenge was about to present itself that excited him more than any other he'd encountered in his long and varied career as an inventor and special consultant to the LEP. Yes, this was a day for the history files.
"Here it is," the pixie said with no fanfare whatsoever. "The chief wants you to crack it ay-sap so we can get down to brass tacks."
"You cannot rush genius," Foaly complained, whinnying. "This will be a defining moment in the legacy of the People! I don't care what outmoded alloy your tacks are made from, I am going to relish this."
"Don't relish it too long, or Kelp will have your carcass in a sling," the man grumbled as he set down the rectangular object and shuffled back out.
At last, Foaly thought, positively wriggling with glee. A chance to really take a crack at Artemis Fowl.
Gingerly, he picked up the laptop computer and placed it upon an omnisensor; this would more or less give him unrestricted access to the inner workings. It wasn't necessary for the device to be on at all, but he booted it up, anyway; no sense in taking the easy way in. There was a lot more fun to be had.
"Ooh," he breathed when he saw the login screen; it was entirely unique. Not the one the operating system provided as part of its package deal. Artemis had designed his own encryption, and hopefully it was no eternity code. But then again, if it was...
"Run Foaly program: Moebius." Instantly, the computer connected to the omnisensor began humming and chirping, and numbers flashed across its screen. He'd been laboring to improve the speed and efficiency of this program, amping up the core processor speed until it was possible. At last, a chance to prove there was a point to his draining the departmental budget.
Ding!
Foaly grinned; right there on the screen was the password. He could have told his own system to automatically enter it, but he wanted to lay the final masterstroke with his own hands. Flexing his fingers for a moment, he bent over the keyboard and tapped in the words.
It was like magic; a desktop full of icons appeared. What should he open first? Where was the true meat inside the coded shell?
For a split second, just long enough to make him sigh, Foaly regretted his actions. Orders notwithstanding, he knew (or at the very least suspected) that Artemis had earnestly turned over a new leaf. On the other hand, there would likely be dozens of now-defunct plans of world domination lurking in there, and gigabytes of fairy knowledge that shouldn't be known to any Mud Men on earth, which was all Trouble Kelp would need to secure an order for a mind-wipe... or incarceration. Was he doing the right thing?
Of course he was: in the name of science.
His hands were still hovering over the keyboard indecisively when his communicator buzzed; a private channel, non-LEP. Holly?
"Yes, Captain Short?" he said once he'd donned the earpiece. "I was beginning to worry about you, what with all the-"
"Greetings, my noble steed."
"Fowl," he replied simply. Then he grinned. "Calling to congratulate me on splitting your code like a ripe watermelon?"
"Indeed, have you?" Artemis replied. "Then you are to be commended. I suppose you know by now that it was an eternity code?"
"Naturally. I've been working on a state-of-the-art code-breaker ever since your run-in with Mr. Spiro. It's a thing of beauty."
A light chuckle. "Then I hope one day to examine this breaker of yours. Professional interest, you understand. Of course, right now we have a bit of a situation."
"Yes," he sighed. "And just to get it out in the open, Mud Boy, this is strictly me earning my salary; Kelp might be foolhardy enough to erase your mental slate again, and you and I might be more worldly-wise in that aspect, but hey, who listens to the centaur? Up to me, I'd hand your PowerBook right back to you – well, now that the fun part's over."
"I suspected you might feel that way. So I want you to turn up your earpiece."
Foaly was instantly on guard. "Why?"
"Because I'm going to reveal something that your superiors may not like – and I think you'll appreciate. All the same, I want to minimize risks; we are on a secure channel, correct?"
"As secure as they come." Giving in to his curiosity, Foaly upped the audio level of his earpiece. "Okay, but make it snappy."
"Listen," Artemis spoke in a clear tone. He took a few steadying breaths – probably winding up to the big delivery – then said, "PHALANX."
Said might not be the most accurate description to use – it was more like shouted. Foaly's ears were instantly ringing, and he ripped out the earpiece to give himself room to wiggle a finger in there. As he returned the audio levels to normal, he blustered, "What in the name of Frond – why did you have me crank the volume if you were going to start yelling? Are you trying to make me deaf?"
"Dear Foaly, why would I wish to end our conversation now? I am only beginning to gloat, and it's more amusing to gloat with your eardrums intact."
"Gloat? What's that supposed to... oh."
Only then did Foaly notice the countdown on the PowerBook's screen. There was a cancel button to click, but by the time he put it together, there was only one second left, and it was one second too few. His hand was still moving the mouse cursor toward the button when it disappeared, and the word "Phalanx" flashed across the screen, followed by an image of a shield with a spear superimposed atop it.
"Nothing's working," he grunted in shock; not even the button to reboot the system would respond. "What have you done?"
"Done? Me? How dare you slander my good name."
"The mic," he breathed, glancing at the tiny pinhole over the laptop's screen. "Your shouting, it... was an audio command. Brilliant."
"I predict that the fun is far from over," Artemis chuckled. "Enjoy."
"Wait!" Foaly snapped, still fruitlessly pounding away at the buttons that yielded no results. "You just made a bonehead move, Mud Boy – you're interfering with a criminal investigation, which alone is probably as damning as anything you might be trying to cover up!"
"Am I? There's no record of my call, because, as you said, this is a secure line. Besides, all I did was talk. On the other hoof, you will be busy long into the night for weeks to come trying to circumvent this fortification. Just the kind of sport you pray for, isn't it?"
"Artemis..."
"Ta."
And the line went dead.
Well played, Fowl, Foaly thought to himself, unable to keep the dark smirk from his horsey lips. At least nobody can ever claim you're predictable.
o o o
"Done," Artemis said as he twisted his ring back to the outside of his hand.
"Are you sure it'll be enough?" Holly asked dubiously.
"It will be more than enough. My dear Captain, if Foaly can actually sort the Phalanx Code, I'll be the one to eat your hat."
"But won't the code itself incriminate you? I mean, it shows that you're-"
"That I'm a private individual who doesn't want his business to be strewn about for the world to see. There's no law against that, here or on the surface; I can plant all the security measures I like within my personal files, and I am not obligated to deactivate them and thereby incriminate myself. From herein, it's up to the police to crack them."
"Nice move," Butler conceded, bowing just slightly. Artemis couldn't resist smiling.
"That lets you off the hook," Holly said. "But what about me? Any secret passwords that will put me back in uniform?"
"Not quite my area of expertise," Artemis responded with a sigh as his euphoria at having bested the LEP evaporated. "But if the commander truly did as you say, then the best thing we can be doing right now is lying low while Internal Affairs does their job."
"You're right." She nodded as she doffed her fedora and swept a hand through her hair. "At least none of us will be lying low in the prison yard at Howler's Peak."
"We'll figure something out," Angeline said reassuringly. "Not that all this cloak-and-dagger is my forte, but any friend of Arty's is going to get all the help he or she needs from me."
"That's really not necessary, Mrs. Fowl," Holly said nervously, staring down at her shoes; they resembled human athletic shoes, except the clasps appeared to be magnetic. "It's not your problem that I screwed up. Trying to give your commanding officer a dressing-down isn't recommended in the LEP handbook."
"Have you actually read the LEP handbook?" Butler asked; when Holly pulled a face, he followed up with, "I thought not."
"I skimmed," she admitted quietly. "I'm more of a hands-on kinda gal, y'know?"
With great difficulty, Artemis choked back his initial semi-lewd response to keep from traumatizing his mother, and thereby himself. "Er, yes. So for now our best plan would probably be for Holly to return home, and for us to stay put; soon enough, my probationary period of state-approved sanity will be up, and I'll be able to reacquaint myself with Fowl Manor. I'm sure if they haven't cracked the code by then, they'll relent and return my property on my way out."
"And if not?" Butler pondered.
"That's why I have you, old friend," he said with a wink; Butler did something that came within a stone's throw of grinning.
"I think you ought to go with Holly," his mother spoke up.
"Why?" he said, startled. "Is there... something you want me to pick up while I'm out, perhaps?"
His mother seemed exasperated with this reply. "Policewoman or no, she's still one lone girl – an ordinary citizen for the time being – walking home alone. Say her former friends with badges stage some sort of ambush?"
Butler, Holly and Artemis glanced at each other. Among themselves, they knew Holly was more than capable of taking down even a dozen armed LEP operatives; none of them had half the training she did, save perhaps Butler, but even compared with him Holly had more years of field experience logged. All the same, there was safety in numbers.
"I'll go," Butler offered. "The leprechaun that dares ambush me when I walk back home alone is one I'd like to meet."
"The three of us, then," Artemis insisted. "Butler can be on guard for all traveling parties, and no one need be caught without backup."
"None of this feels necessary," Holly complained. "I'll be fine, seriously; I'm just going to my own apartment, not crossing an active battlefield."
Artemis's eyes sparked. "Captain, while Trouble Kelp is hell-bent on causing us continuous misery, there's no such thing as 'fine' or 'safe'. It won't hurt us to be a bit more cautious, at least for now."
The look of revulsion on Holly's face begged to differ.
o o o
Thus, we come to find two humans and a Recon jock on sabbatical traipsing through Haven, eyes peeled, nerves rattled. They didn't make the most inconspicuous group of all time; everyone was watching them, some merely curious, others fearful, and still others outraged. Why were there so many Mud Men in what was meant to be a fairy sanctuary?
"Finally, that's over," Holly gusted as she punched in the code for the complex door, and it yielded. "I can't believe that one teenaged punk actually threw a drink at Butler!"
"Neither can I," Butler agreed. "The gall; he should be able to tell I can snap him in half like a dry and brittle twig. You think maybe he was-"
"No, I meant littering like that. Empty cups aren't for smacking Mud Men upside the head." When Butler merely blinked at her, she laughed and said, "It's a joke, Mr. Serious."
"Ha."
The door to her apartment was ajar. It was fairly evident that it had been kicked in, from the scuff marks near the now-ruined lock. The LEP shield tacked below her peephole hung askew.
"Do you have a weapon?" Butler muttered.
"Sorry," she hissed. "Had to leave it in my locker when I resigned."
Holly shrugged. "Blame me for trying to lighten the... what in..."
"Allow me." And in an instant, his Sig Sauer was out, and he followed the intruder's example by using his foot to tap the bottom-most part of the door and nudge it open, entering the room gun-first.
"You guys aren't going to like this."
No trespassers were still lollygagging around; this was at least some relief. As Butler checked the shower and recycling rooms, Artemis and Holly shuffled in behind him, dumbstruck.
Everything had been upended; the cabinets in the kitchenette were wide open, pots, pans and plates lying on the floor. Even the cooler had been left swinging open as it slowly defrosted. Blankets, throw pillows, and clothing were strewn everywhere. There was some kind of paint on the carpet but it was obscured by the clutter. Perhaps the worst possible damage was the large hole in the screen of her wall-mounted television; it was obviously beyond repair and would need replacing.
"Why?" was the fist word Holly could summon. "Why is... what is this, why would anybody ransack my place?"
"Do you have a suitcase?" Artemis asked as he eased the useless door closed to at least afford them privacy.
"No," she admitted, hand over her mouth. "Never had to move before or stay anywhere overnight for more than a day or two. But I guess the coffee table would work. It's pretty lightweight."
When Butler rejoined them, Artemis pantomimed moving a broom back and forth. The bodyguard nodded his understanding and began methodically checking light fixtures and other unlikely places for unwanted surveillance equipment – or anything more sinister. "Sound acceptable. Let's begin packing, shall we?"
Holly sighed, annoyed. "Artemis-"
"You're not staying here," he told her forcefully. "At the very least, not until the lock has been repaired. I'll not have you entertaining such a notion."
The elfin captain's ire flared slightly. "You'll not have me- who do you think you're talking down to?"
"Holly," he sighed, grasping her shoulder. "Sometimes it takes a friend to state the obvious. You might not want to leave your home behind, but for now it is the sole option available to us. I'm only trying to make our exit as swift as possible."
"You're right." She passed a hand over her face, the brief flare of anger being doused by onset of depression. "This is just... crappy, that's all. It's so crappy it's craptastic."
Artemis allowed himself a tight smile as he picked up a handful of shirts. "I'll submit 'craptastic' to Merriam-Webster in the morning."
It only took about five or so minutes to shove most of what Holly Short owned into the coffee table's hidden storage, which Butler assured them both he could carry with relative ease. As she was cinching a spare bungee cable around it to hold it closed, Artemis noticed something. "Hmm."
"What is it?" Butler asked. "Hear something?"
"Nothing like that. These just... I believe them to be letters. Perhaps if we move all the furniture out of the way..."
He was indicating the carpet. Once they had Holly's makeshift suitcase by the door, a few moments had the chairs and futon piled on the smooth, carpetless floor of the kitchenette. All three of them stood back, puzzled.
"Well, that's something else again," Butler grunted. "What do you make of it?"
"If we take it at face value, it says jaidmot," Artemis told them needlessly; it was quite plain, spelled out in Gnommish, and even Butler had a passing knowledge of the alphabet. "Translating to... 'one who wallows', I believe – though there's every chance I may not be reading it correctly. Perhaps it's the name of some new offshoot of the B'wa Kell?"
"No, it isn't." The humans turned to find Holly's face burning crimson, fists vibrating with scarcely-bottled outrage. "It says 'wallower', because that's what I've been doing. Wallowing in the mud."
Artemis felt his blood run cold as he distantly heard Butler let out a weary sigh. This was no mere burglary or act of vandalism; it was a hate crime.
"Holly-"
"Are you sure we're doing the right thing?" Holly asked him yet again, voice trembling. "Because this just got a whole lot scarier. You might want to bail out now before both of us wind up in the morgue."
"One moment," Artemis whispered as he spun his ring inward. "I'll have Foaly on the horn within m-"
"No," she bade him quietly. "Just... leave it be. It's too degrading."
"Damn the degradation," he spat. "These unscrupulous vermin are going to be caught and forced to make reparations."
"But I don't want them to. I don't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing they got to me."
"They already have," Butler said in his bass tones, contempt lacing his words. "If you stay silent. Because that's their goal; to break you."
Artemis shook his head. "You may not be on good terms with the local law enforcement division just now, but this is exactly the type of crime that must be reported and dealt with."
"Artemis, I really d-"
"I will not stand idly by and let them taint this - let them continue to believe even for a half-second that their way of thinking has any merit! By making our relationship their concern they have brought down the wrath of Artemis Fowl, and so help me by the time I'm through with them they will know it intimately!"
The room was still echoing with his shouts when Holly slipped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his abdomen. "Fine, then. Open this can of stinkworms. I... don't agree, but I can't say I disagree, either. Because I have too much respect for you to let them reduce you to a justification for their bigotry."
"I'll figure something out," he whispered, hand resting on the back of her neck. "It could be that outdated chivalry Orion left behind, but I'd like to believe anyone would feel the same. Anyone who knew you."
"Second that," Butler growled.
"Let's go, guys," she sniffled, opening the door and yanking the police logo from where it hung. "Before I can look at it again."
On their way out, Artemis caught sight of Mr. Reed peeping from around his doorjamb. In spite of everything, Artemis smiled at the man – as he knew his smile was ten times scarier than any of his other expressions.
You'll be first on my list, he swore silently. Prepare yourself.
o o o
On their way across town, Artemis called Foaly directly and reported the incident, rather than wasting time with Kelp – whom he would most likely have lambasted rather than spoken to calmly. Foaly, to his credit, was in no way amused.
"I must say," he grunted, "even though I'm a little uncomfortable with you and crew in our humble town myself, there's no reason to deface anyone's living quarters over it. I'll make sure someone runs down there to check it over."
"Out of curiosity, have you ever heard this before? Jaidmot?"
"I have," he sighed, as if he'd rather not elaborate but felt compelled to do so anyway. "Back in the era of Frond, there were a lot of dissenters during San the Deluded's reign who threw it around. His policies toward Mud Men were deemed too charitable for their tastes. A few other candidates for Council have been slapped with it, though it's not shouted with quite the same level of frivolity anymore."
"Blind hatred is passé?"
"Go figure." Both ends of the call went silent for a few seconds. "Artemis... I hate to be a nosy nag, but..."
"Hmm?"
"It's awfully hard to block out all the water cooler gossip, and I have been giving it my level best. But I feel like if I don't ask now, I may be setting myself up for an epic shock."
"This would be about the rantings of one Mr. Reed?"
"It's all anybody can talk about." A hesitant laugh. "It's unfair, because it makes it sound like what happened is her own fault, and it isn't. But without Holly around Police Plaza, it makes her especially... conspicuous."
"You're right."
"I am?" The dismay in those two words from the centaur was audible.
"Yes. It isn't her fault."
Foaly sighed as he adjusted some instrument panel or other. "Didn't I just say I really would rather let sleeping dogs lie? Bear in mind that Holly's my friend, too. I'm worried."
"No need. Soon enough, we'll get to the bottom of this – and I'll be trusting in the meantime that our esteemed commander is being thoroughly grilled by IA?"
"They're putting the thumbscrews to him as we speak."
Artemis smiled again. "Oh, if only that were true in a literal sense." He cleared his throat. "You'll appreciate that it is not proper procedure to ask one of your subordinates about their personal, intimate relations – much less in a work setting. If anyone faults Holly for walking out after that, they're equally shortsighted."
"I know, I know. Can't tell you what's going on in Trouble's noggin. Oh, well – back to work."
"Made any headway, noble steed?" he chuckled.
"I hate you."
And then Foaly was once more slogging through piles and piles of code.
"We're going to end up on that beachfront property sooner than we thought, Artemis," Holly said glumly as Artemis twisted his ring around.
"How do you mean?"
"It might be the only place we can escape all this ridiculousness."
"Ah," he snickered. "I do believe you're putting the cart before the horse, Mon Capitan. This can all be sorted by brunch tomorrow."
"Or it could still be a roiling mess five years from now," she countered, cheeks filling with color.
"What's wrong?" he whispered. "Have I said...?"
"Mon Capitan?" she whispered back. "You forget that I have the gift of tongues."
"A formidable gift it is. And you also the gift of being able to speak any language besides," he said suggestively, which made her blush a deeper shade at his sly witticism. "What of them?"
"Arty... French or no French, you can't call me something that... possessive in public. If anybody hears you..."
Now Artemis was blushing from her use of the diminutive form of his name. "Sorry, that wasn't- it's sort of a human expression in English-speaking regions. It isn't meant to be so literal. But I can see..."
"Yeah," she breathed.
"I take it back," he followed up with suddenly, smiling wide as he realized what it meant. "Perhaps I'm fond of it, now. 'O Captain, my Captain'..."
"Cut that out!" she hissed.
"The prize I sought is won," he intoned, skipping ahead in the famous poem and paraphrasing a part that best described his feelings. Holly's ruddy face was now giving the late Julius Root a run for his money.
"Stop teasing her, Artemis," Butler grunted under the weight of the coffee table. "Haven't I told you before how foolish it is to goad those who can fracture your spine in under three movements?"
Now it was Holly's turn to grin up at him, and Artemis gulped. "Ah. Point taken, old friend."
Precisely then, he was struck with a dark realization: the poet's words were not positive and free-spirited. The "captain" being referenced was dead.
Without warning, a cold, vice-like pressure appeared within his chest, squeezing at his heart with paralyzing force. Holly could die. It wasn't as if he hadn't been faced with this possibility before – or watched it happen, then been able to correct it later – but this was the first time he'd considered it since their relationship had achieved the next level. Before, he had been mostly certain he could survive without any of his friends; a crushing blow, perhaps, but he would move on, form new bonds.
But without Holly... could there be a world without Holly? What would be the use?
This wasn't a rosy notion, and it followed him all the way back to the Fowl apartment, swirling about his head like a maleficent fog. It would have to be up to him to ensure this never came to pass. A responsibility – no. A sacred duty.
o o o END Chapter Nine o o o
AUTHOR'S NOTE: More fun. Artemis gets the last laugh with his lappytappy... but Holly's out one place to live. Things like this still happen in our modern age; synagogues have slurs spray-painted across their edifice, as if World War II never ended (or, as some would have us believe, never took place to begin with). So much light in this world, but so much darkness hiding in the corners.
And the tidal wave of reviews crashes into my inbox... and I'm especially bored this morning, so let's really tackle them!
NightPatrol: Cliffhangers are like chip butties; so decadent and evil, but so tasty! Any time my fic makes someone (exotic) dance... I am a proud little writer. Videos, please? I assure you my dancing is not worth seeing; I have rhythm but no discipline or concept of "moves", so I just do whatever comes naturally, and that's usually The_Wrong_Thing. Thus I shy away from nightclubs, as I'm not a heavy drinker nor a heavy dater, and those being the three reasons to go to a nightclub... :sigh: But now this is just verbal diarrhea, so I'll stop.
Ru-Doragon: :swallows thickly: I... I'll update as often as you like. Anything, just... just don't hurt the children! :glances around: I mean, the cat. I have no children. But if I did, I'd rather you not hurt them! For future reference! And if King Kazul eats Trouble... ah, I doubt the world will mourn overlong. There are leagues between him and the calibre of leadership that Julius Root brought to the office. It's a crying shame... and worse still that we lost Vinyaya, whom by all rights should have taken the post. Why, Colfer? Why?
Gen. Herbison: You have no inkling... :shivers at her own writing: Sometimes I appall myself.
Jace: Yeah, it had to come to a head eventually; the People don't make any secret of their human resentment, so I'd be lazy if I didn't bring it up. More trouble for Trouble on the horizon!
DrLee: Hmm... it sounds as if you want to write your own spin-off. I'd love to read it, or even one not based on mine but touching on the same subject.
Gator8: (like what I did to your name there?) Let's get this niggling thing out of the way; I'm sure you've read a lot of fic like mine before, but as I state with too much honesty in my profile, I don't read fic. Not because of some high-minded principle, but because, sadly, I don't have time :( I am a very slow reader and an even slower writer, and I also have that pesky day-job. If I actually took the time to read through all the Arty/Holly on FFnet before trying my hand at it, you'd be reading this... in 2024. So really, I'm sorry if I'm recycling concepts, but I promise you it's not because I'm stealing them; they just seemed likely, which is I'm sure the same reason all the other authors wrote about the same topics. Also, about 80k, give or take... that's just an estimate.
Michael: It's in my TEA, I tell you! But seriously, I thought about lemon in this one... but oh, I couldn't do it. As another reviewer pointed out, this is actually quite racy for something based on the works of Colfer, and in my heart I felt taking it any further would be sacrilegious. That's nothing to stop other authors from fogging up the Mini windows, though! And hey, you needn't worry about it being finished; I've got the plot all formulated and ready to flesh out, no writer's block can stop me now.
HiddenDepths-x: Yes, I know you didn't review and that my responding to a Story Alert is oddly stalker-ish, but I had to smile when I noticed the little "X" after your screen name. For whatever reason. :wink:
GMontag: See above reply to Gatorade88 for thoughts on my (so-called) originality. As far as the racism goes, I could reference the Notting Hill riots or something a bit closer to home but the "coloreds only/whites only" concept implemented in the USA was such a... somehow, it's more uncomfortable than it is evil superficially, which of course means that it was ten times as evil. The difference between being shot, and merely being slapped with a fish; it's a strange concept that was so pervasive in the separate-but-equal period, and I'll never understand how the authorities and citizens at the time could justify it. "Yes, we'll admit they're human and stop viewing them as property, but they're those humans, so we'll give them their own space and make them stay there." Weird. It did happen all over the world and for various reasons, though, and continues to do so in spite of evolution of culture. For me, being that the Fowls weren't outright lynched but quietly asked to leave, as they're "the wrong sort of customers", seemed to fit with that. Angeline picking that reference, she's kind of an activism nut. Remember the silky sifaka? Any cause, anywhere - which means I'm sure she's well-read on all instances of injustice throughout history. I think it's noble of her. But yes, good question, I'm glad to have people ask about these things; you know that old adage about "learning from history", so as long as it's being discussed then maybe we're a TAD better off than we were a hundred years ago. Finally, as for the more risqué moments... if you'd read "Mixed Signals", you would realize Holly and Artemis aren't catching half of what I could be doing to them. Ohhh, what I could be doing!
Chtulhu: Presto! And I commend you on your penname!
Hanzo: The story moves forward!
NEXT: Everything gets a lot more... public.
