In Her Mother's Footsteps

by John Creel

Tragedy marks Holly Short's life. Her mother, Coral Short, was the last piece of family she had left, precious and irreplaceable. To lose her was to lose everything, and yet fate had no sympathy, nor did time. In this terrible tragedy Holly would find her true path in life, in her mother's footsteps, and that path would lead her to a boy named Artemis Fowl. Rated T for Lang & V.

1. Worlds Apart

Author's Note:

I know that I said I was done writing fanfics, but it turns out that I deceived myself, most unwittingly, leaving me just as surprised as anyone else. Currently I have been finding it hard to write anything, my muse having left me in a sense, and as a writer such a state of mind is extremely unsettling. Anyway, I contrived another short story for this fandom, as a way of keeping myself writing. I find it rather enjoyable to revisit this series and try my hand at it once again, just for the hell of it. This story is, admittedly, not the best I've written, but perhaps it's not the worst. Regardless, I hope that some of you enjoy it. On a more positive note, I will never again say that I am "done" with Artemis Fowl (Colfer and his infernal series seem intent on stalking me through life, hanging over my head like a veil and afflicting me with temptations). So yeah, I'm back...again. Cheers!

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Lower Commercial District, Haven City

Traffic detail was difficult and infuriating on the best of days, and for Corporal Holly Short it was turning out to be one of the least favorable days of her career. There she stood, in the midst of the infrastructural travesty of Haven's congested boulevards, dressed in the infernal computerized traffic suit that made her look like a walking billboard. The suit was virtually a wearable road sign, displaying all of the common commands and showing her verbal orders in text across her chest plate. To wear it, let alone walk around on duty with it, was a thoroughly degrading experience, which was why the upper brass liked to put their least favorite subordinates on traffic detail. Holly was not one of those disliked officers, but because she was fresh out of the Academy and one of the uncommon female recruits in a predominately male hierarchy, it was not a huge surprise that her first taste of police work was bitter.

The fact that most recruits were in the same boat was of little consolation to her, because unlike many of them she was filled with an insatiable yearning for the extremes—for impossible adventures, danger and excitement, and selfless deeds that would actually help the People. Even as she directed traffic with a flat tone and a slight glare, she could envision the inside of an LEP shuttle's cockpit; she saw all the controls, felt the g-force-dampening seat beneath her and her flight helmet upon her head, and smelled the distinct scent that they all had. The sensation of opening the throttle, the roar of turbocharged engines, and the adrenaline rush that came with it was easy to remember, and easier to miss—like a wonderful past long lost to time, she gravitated towards its memory. It was almost distracting, but she was no fool. With her frustration kept just below the flashpoint, Corporal Short did her job, professional about everything despite the fact that she would rather be exchanging punches with a troll than deal with the rude, impatient fairies that became so common during rush hour.

To make matters worse, fate had concocted a wonderful set of circumstances to try both her sanity and her patience. Apart from it being the worst time of day on the worst day of the week for congestion, a herd of sweartoads had overrun the main overpass, forcing fifty-percent of the city's commuters through the smaller, less organized streets in the lower district. This logically meant a total disaster, a complete mishmash of accidents, road rage, disputes, infractions, and overall incivility. Holly watched as half of those incidents sprung up at once in her general vicinity in a matter of seconds, and she scowled at it all with a sweeping disdain. And I have to put up with this for another three hours. Wonderful, just wonderful.

Across the boulevard from her was her partner, Corporal Finn Underwood. He was a recruit like her, albeit in the lower tiers, and despite his lack of experience it was good to have him around, if not only to lift some of the burden from her shoulders. Traffic detail was always too much work for a single officer, though two was ultimately not much of a difference.

A loud crash split the air the next moment, and Holly could feel little pieces of debris pinging against her as she turned to look; a few chunks of shattered glass glittered as they spiraled past her like throwing knives. Two small vehicles, both driven by clueless, distracted drivers, had struck each other at the intersection, causing one to flip over several times and the other to collide with a storefront. Chaos ensued when both drivers, seemingly unaware of the fact that they had just avoided death by a hair's breadth, got out and started giving each other a verbal lashing. They were both pixies, and judging by their appearance they had been driving while juggling their phones and overpriced specialty coffees—a very common ailment of the younger generations. Suppressing her anger and remembering the protocols, Holly started towards the scene, signaling her partner as she did so. The two of them would be more than enough to pacify the squabbling idiots.

"D'arvit, what the hell is wrong with people these days?" Holly muttered as she weaved through the parked traffic, scowling at anyone who looked at her. She was only a few car lengths away from the accident when something, by a very minute sliver of chance, caught her eye. She was passing a large transport, one of the largest ones she had ever seen, and when she gave it a glance she saw two pixies seated in the front, both staring back at her with expressions that were anything but normal. One of them inclined his head to speak into a communicator, and the other shifted uneasily. Holly noted these things in the second they occurred, but kept walking as if she had not noticed. When she was past the vehicle she turned back, and saw the blocky text along its side.

—Two Dwarfs and a Truck—

Curious… Holly thought, noting that it was a moving service as well. The fact that there were two pixies—that were not naturally the best at lifting things—and that they had reacted to her presence, made it evident that something was up. It was also obvious that the truck far surpassed the weight limit for the smaller boulevard, by almost three tons. Holly brought up her scanner and scanned the barcode on the transport, reading all of its registration information and checking for past infractions. She received a clean record, and no hints of theft, to which she frowned even more. Sometimes, when everything looked legitimate, it was the opposite, and in her gut she had that feeling. Truth was so very often hidden beneath a convincing veneer of lies.

Holly completely disregarded everything else for the moment. Turning on her heels, she walked back towards the transport and spoke into her communicator. "Finn, I have a potential five-o-three over here. I'm checking it out."

"What about the dispute over here?" the corporal replied. The sound of the arguing pixies could be heard in the background.

"Let the paramedics sort them out, they're inbound, five minutes out. Now get over here."

There was a bit of doubt in Finn's voice, but only a little. "Roger that, on my way."

With her partner on the way, Holly walked in front of the motionless transport and used her traffic suit to signal for it to pull over to the side of the boulevard. It was nothing more than a routine traffic stop, at least that's how she wanted it to look, and to their credit the two pixies complied without hesitation. The massive vehicle roared and ponderously moved over so that traffic could pass, and then shut off its enormous engine. Holly stood where the driver could see her, and spoke into her microphone with the most disarming tone she could manage.

"Please exit the vehicle, citizens."

A side window rolled down, and the driver's head peeked out of it. "What for, officer?" he called out.

Holly spoke neutrally, keeping her cool. "You are past the weight limit for this road by almost three tons. That is an infraction."

The driver furrowed his brow, and then turned to his colleague with an obvious air of vexation. They exchanged a hushed but very animated conversation, and then, seeming to reach a consensus, unbuckled themselves and climbed down out of the large compartment. Neither looked very pleased, and when they stood before Holly the driver tapped his watch purposefully.

"We're on a strict schedule, officer. And we had no choice but to use this road, what with all those sweartoads blocking the overpass."

"That does not change the fact that you are breaking the law," Holly replied coolly, studying the pixie for any more subtle indicators.

"Can't you just let us off with a warning?" the other pixie whined.

At that moment Corporal Finn appeared around the back of the truck in his resplendent traffic suit, much to the two pixies' discomfort. Holly never took her eyes from them for a second, and with Finn nearby she proceeded.

"Identification please."

The pixies were both wearing heavy jackets—perfect for concealing weapons—and when they reached into them Holly tensed up automatically, her right hand close to where her neutrino was holstered. When they produced their wallets she let herself relax a little, but only just. In her line of work, everything could change in an instant, in a flash that took all but a second and could very well dictate her survival. She had to be ready for anything, anytime, anywhere.

The pixies' citizenship cards were adequate for identification, and she scanned each of them carefully. It turned out that they were brothers: Talbot and Jarmil Bryth. Talbot was the driver of the transport, and evidently the more dominant of the pair; his gaze was hard, and his stance almost defiant, bespeaking a certain harshness of upbringing and a hidden resolve. Jarmil was the opposite: jumpy, uncertain, and undisciplined, clearly reliant upon his brother. Holly eyed each of their cards, and then scanned their barcodes to run an instant background check. She got nothing from it apart from a clean criminal record and a single parking ticket from ten years prior. Furthermore, their truck was not stolen, only recently acquired, and all of their registrations were up to date. Their presence on the road was understandable, and there were statutes in place that allowed for overweight loads in exceptional situations—they would easily win if they took the LEP to court over a ticket. In the end, there was every indication that they were upstanding citizens, not the shady kind she suspected them to be, and she could not give them a hard time over a simple weight infraction, not when they had the common law on their side. When she gave them back their cards, they seemed to know this as well.

"Are we free to go, officer?" Talbot asked expectantly, already backpedaling towards the truck. There was a discreet look of triumph on his face, one that Holly did not miss.

"Everything checks out," she admitted. "However, just to be sure I would like to inspect your cargo. What are you transporting today?"

Jarmil was fidgeting with his sleeves, and when asked this he shot a glance at his older brother. Talbot was much more composed, merely waving his hand and speaking normally, as if the question was of no consequence.

"Materials for the Haven Medical College, fresh if you know what I mean. Real organs, synthetic organs, samples, meds, you name it. We're under contract to ship in these kind of things once and a while, when their main distribution channels are caught up. Currently I think that the truckers they use are on strike—gotta love unions, eh? Anyway, it's all in stasis pods of course, which is why the thing's so heavy. We usually pack less, but the strike's really backed up their orders and they need certain things pronto."

Holly nodded, and then gave her partner a look. "Cross-reference that with the college's administration."

Finn nodded and got to work on his datapad, which only took a minute to yield the information. "Yeah, it's them alright. They are expected to deliver this afternoon."

"Which is why we must get going," Talbot said insistently, gesturing at the traffic. "Our livelihood depends on punctuality."

"Sure thing, I'll let you go," Holly said, making both of the pixies smile until she added, "Once I inspect your cargo."

"Is that really necessary?" Jarmil asked, still fidgeting with his sleeves in a childish manner.

"I'm an officer of the law," she replied sternly, "I decide what's necessary."

Most officers would have already let them go, and even apologized for wasting their time, but not her. She had a feeling in her gut, an intuition that had never been wrong yet, and she dared not ignore it. Without another word to the two pixies, she started towards the rear of the truck, her stride long and her face set in a look of certainty. "Keep an eye on those two," she said offhandedly to Finn, who nodded without comment—he knew better than to get in her way when she had her mind set on something. Upon reaching the rear of the transport, Holly saw that it was locked securely with a robust system, one that would take forever to break via traditional methods. But she only grinned at it, as if it presented no more challenge than a piece of string holding a cupboard shut. With that smile still on her face she reached to her hip and grabbed her omnitool. Her mother, Coral, had given it to her on the day of her graduation from the Academy, and she held it dearly as a result. Taking it from her belt and holding it up before her, she could see her own name inscribed in silver lettering on its side and remember when she had first held it on that wonderful day. She had used it many times since then, and never had it failed her. It was the most reliable omnitool she had ever used. A perfect gift from a loving mother.

Holly put the tool up to the locking mechanism and activated it. A part of her always wondered when it would fail to open a way, but most of her believed that it would always succeed. This faith was rewarded, as in less than ten seconds the heavy lock was disarmed, letting her swing the large steel doors outward. With a smile she climbed up into the compartment, all the while thanking her beloved mother for the reliable tool.

The interior of the transport was illuminated by white lights, the sort one would see in an operating room, and its appearance was explicitly sterile. Everything was clean and polished, the very definition of immaculate, and the massive stasis pods were sealed and humming softly. Eighteen of them were lined up in levels of three, each labeled for their specific contents and securely locked. Holly walked up to the first one and read the label, and thought about opening it just to make sure. She was about to do so when she realized that the length of the compartment was odd—it was shorter than that model of transport should have had. This realization led her to the far wall, and with a serious expression she tapped her omnitool against it. Thud, thud, thud. It made a distinct sound, and it made her day as well.

"Trying to hide something are we?" she said, holstering her omnitool and using both hands to search for a way through. She found it surprisingly fast. There was a hidden switch flush with the steel wall, barely visible to a keen eye. You'd think they could have afforded a retina scanner or something a little less cliché, she thought, pushing it carefully. There was a loud click, followed by a groan as the wall split in the middle and swung outwards. Holly turned on her helmet's lamp and walked into the dark space beyond, her wits about her and her hand ready to draw her blaster. The secret room was filled with containers, all of them stasis pods, and none of them were labeled this time. What was in them? What were the two pixies hiding? Well, there was only one way to find out.

Holly approached the nearest pod and, without any concern for the sanctity of private property, punched the button that was supposed to open it. When it didn't open, and instead prompted for her to provide a password, she drew her neutrino and unceremoniously shot it point blank. The locking panel melted into slag, and Holly nudged the lid open with the barrel of her blaster. What met her was the nauseating stench of shellfish, and the very obvious sight of lobsters—hundreds of them crammed into a single stasis pod. It was so unsurprising that Holly actually smirked. Pixies, with their obsessive fixation for illegal shellfish, oftentimes resorted to smuggling in order to sate both their own desires as well as that of the underground businesses that catered to them. Believe it or not, lobsters sold faster than firearms on Haven's black market, and for twice as much.

"Upstanding citizens my ass," Holly growled as she shut the stasis pod. She climbed out of the transport and walked back around to where Corporal Finn was keeping an eye on the Bryth brothers. The two pixies were looking at her carefully, their eyes calculating—pixies were cunning creatures, swift and intelligent—and when she got close to them she pointed back to the transport.

"Care to explain the undeclared culinary goods in the back?"

What happened next was swift and unforgiving, as sudden as the lancing of a lightning bolt from a blackened sky. Upon hearing those words from Corporal Short, Jarmil's eyes went wide and his mouth opened in surprise. There was fear, astonishment, and irrational panic in those eyes, and such emotions bled into his actions. With surprising speed, the pixie reached into his jacket and produced a laser pistol, which he fired immediately into the chest of Corporal Finn.

All of this happened in slow motion for Holly—the drawing of the weapon, the panicked aim, the red glare of the laser bolt—and as her partner was shot, her training kicked in like a hidden gear, capturing every fiber of her being and laying it on a reckless course. She was suddenly filled with adrenaline and fiery determination—and anger, an incomprehensible anger. Jarmil was aiming his weapon towards her now, and Talbot was reaching into his jacket. Two versus one, at close range no less. Poor odds for them.

Without a moment's hesitation Holly ducked, and a split-second later a sizzling bolt of energy shot over her head. Forwards she charged, having no time to draw her blaster in the heat of the moment. With a growl she kicked Jarmil square in the gut, sending him tumbling backwards into the side of the transport, and almost simultaneously she grabbed the other pixie by the collar and drove him down into her raised knee, making him drop the weapon he had been drawing. As Talbot stumbled back his brother was up again, firing inaccurately with his weapon. Shot after shot screamed past Holly , who dodged them just barely, one of them coming close enough to melt her helmet's visor. In the adrenaline rush she was in, the elf did not even pause, not even when most would have been paralyzed by terror. She ducked another shot, tore off her ruined helmet, and swung it into the side of Jarmil's head, shattering its damaged visor and more than likely fracturing part of his skull. As the pixie fell backwards she drew her neutrino and rapidly fired six shots into his chest, knocking him out cold.

With one of her opponents neutralized, Holly spun about to meet the other. Talbot was scrambling for his blaster, which was on the road a few meters away, and to his credit he managed to grab it and fire accurately before Holly could put a neutrino shot into his rear end.

"D'arvit!" she cursed as a burst of hot laser bolts screamed around her, one of them clipping her traffic suit. She threw herself to the ground, unable to return fire amidst the fusillade of shots, and rolled several times until she was behind the fallen Jarmil. It was a shameful tactic to use her attacker's brother as a shield, but it saved her life, and that's all that mattered at the moment—survival, nothing else. Her breathing was steady and her pulse quick; she could hear it thumping in her ears, and feel the energy rushing through her body. This was the first time she had come so close to death, and her first real gunfight apart from all of the simulations she had done in the academy. This was real. Error meant death. She waited, listening for her enemy.

With his target where it was, Talbot was forced to stop shooting. He cursed under his breath, fearful for his brother and also infuriated by how out of hand things had gotten. Their gunfight had turned the entire street into a mass of panicking civilians, and that was bound to attract a heavy police response. What was worse, his brother had lost his cool and shot an LEP officer—a grave mistake given the consequences. "Of all the days there had to be sweartoads blocking that blasted road!" he rasped, switching his pistol to fully automatic.

Holly heard him speak, heard the click of the weapon's switch, and even though she was prone behind an unconscious pixie she could tell where he was exactly. With a determined glare the elf rolled back out into the open, this time with her blaster aimed and her eyes locked on her target. There he was, only twenty feet away, raising his weapon to fire upon her. She fired first.

The neutrino blast was aimed at his upper chest, but the movement of his hand made it so that it struck his weapon instead. The force of the energy impact knocked the laser pistol from his grip, and he jumped back desperately to avoid the following shots. Using the transport as cover, Talbot got out of Holly's line of sight and started running as fast as he could across the boulevard.

Holly was on her feet in an instant, and once she was sure the pixie had retreated, she rushed to her fallen partner's side. Even though an armed and dangerous fairy was on the loose, her colleague's well-being was paramount. She would not forgive herself if someone died on her watch.

"Finn. Finn!" she yelled, tapping the ground next to his head with the barrel of her neutrino. At first she thought that the laser shot had gone straight through him, but a closer inspection revealed that the traffic suit, with all of its circuitry and material, had diffused the worst of the impact, leaving only a second-degree burn on his body; his magic was healing it steadily. This made Holly grin despite herself. "That stupid suit is actually good for something."

Finn stirred—his fall had knocked him out—and when he opened his eyes he spoke in a tired, uncertain voice. "Am I dead?"

Holly put her hand on his shoulder, smiling. "No, just very lucky."

The elf sighed with relief, and after a few seconds of counting his blessings he sat up. "You got them?"

"Just this idiot," Holly replied bitterly, gesturing towards Jarmil. "The other one ran away."

Finn nodded, looking more than a little dazed. "Probably long gone by now…"

Holly gritted her teeth. She hated letting someone like that get away, especially after he had exchanged shots with her—it was personal now. It would also look bad on her record, but even worse on her conscience. Any crimes that pixie committed later would be her fault, because she had failed to stop him when given the perfect opportunity. For a moment she felt lost, defeated, but then that other side of her, the impossibly determined core that had driven her through the toughest trials of her life, broke through with its temptations. It started out as a yearning, then a possibility, and finally an idea. That idea swiftly mutated into a plan of action, a rather simple one.

"D'arvit, I'm going after him!"

Finn looked at her as if she was crazy. "What? Now? We need to call backup!"

"You call them then, my communicator's fried," Holly said. She took her partner's neutrino and placed it in his hands, and pointed at Jarmil. "Keep an eye on this blockhead for me. I'll be right back."

Corporal Finn was going to protest further, but before he could do so Holly was already gone, sprinting away like a gazelle. All he could do was stare after her and then look at the unconscious pixie opposite him. "Well, this sure is a change of pace…"

Talbot had a very big head start, and in the convoluted district it was easy to shake pursuit. When Holly crossed the road she saw a long side street in the direction her target had fled, and judging by the calamity within it he had probably been through there. What had once been a small market was now a terrible mess, tables overturned and goods strewn everywhere; platitudinously, the infuriated pixie was not capable of making a discreet exit. Holly ran through the market, tearing off her heavy traffic suit so that only her standard issue uniform remained. She jumped over tables and skidded through slicks of spilled substances—whatever in heaven's name they were—and when she was near the end of the market one of the patrons, an old gnome with a beard larger than his torso, indicated towards an alleyway to her left. Holly gave the gnome a friendly salute and followed his directions.

The alleyway was congested with garbage containers and the standard refuse, but Holly ran through it as if it were an open racetrack, ignoring the danger and defying the odds. She got covered in filth as a result, but she did not care. All that mattered to her was her mission.

At the alley's end was a staircase that led down into an even lower level of the district. Buildings flanked it all the way down, their rooftops successively lower. Holly stopped and scanned the area, and luck would have it that her hazel eyes locked onto a certain pixie as he turned a corner roughly two-hundred feet away. There he is! Holly felt her adrenaline return, her mind flood with purposeful thoughts, and her body ache to move forward. She did so immediately, but not down the steps—no, that would take too long. Instead, she jumped up onto a garbage container and then onto the closest rooftop. It was not the greatest idea, but it was far more direct.

One building at a time the elf descended into the lower level, all the while moving on a diagonal that would intercept the pixie's path. She ran as fast as she could, feeling the air rip past her and the steady impact of her boots on the hard surface of the rooftops. Gaps appeared where alleyways sliced between the structures, and like a fictional assassin she jumped over each one with ease, landing on the other side with a roll and springing to her feet to resume her swift movement. She didn't care that she was making a scene, though later she would frown upon seeing videos of her stunt on the web—good advertising for the LEP in a sense, but not the kind of publicity she wanted.

When she reached the lower level she ran along the edge of the roof parallel to the street. Looking down was a very satisfying feeling, because there below was the runaway pixie, huffing and puffing as he sprinted as fast as he could. She was right above him, but the height was too high to jump from, and there were too many civilians for her to try her luck and shoot at him. If only I had a pair of wings right now, she thought, split between looking where she was going and tracking her target's movement. A moment later Talbot took a sharp turn down a side street, where a number of warehouses were located. With the rooftops lower along that road, Holly went in for the metaphorical kill. Alright, here goes nothing.

The elf leapt from the safety of the rooftop and into the cramped street, drawing her neutrino in midair and aiming it at Talbot. The pixie looked up, and in spite of his surprise threw himself to the right, avoiding Holly's flying shots. When she hit the ground she was forced to roll, and when she came up she saw the pixie rushing towards an adjacent street. I'm not letting you get away this time! she thought as she gave chase.

The chase was not really much of a chase, as it ended only one minute later. It led up to a midsized warehouse, which Talbot rushed into without hesitation, ramming himself into the heavy doors and stumbling inside. Holly was right on his heels, and with the warehouse door open she did not bother to slow down. With a kick and a flurry of motion, she burst into the warehouse with her weapon raised, and actually landed right on top of Talbot. Both of them fell in a heap, but she got the upper hand, putting him in a lock and pressing her neutrino against his stomach.

"Don't move, idiot!" she growled, her fury showing on her face and her eyes filled with steel. Something dropped ahead of her, the metallic ping echoing throughout the large warehouse, and there was the distinct sound of several muttered curses. Holly looked up, and was surprised to see five pixies staring back at her. They were all standing dead still amidst an assortment of containers, and the smell made it clear what they contained. It would seem that Holly had burst in on another part of Haven's shellfish smuggling ring, and without any backup. She stared at the other pixies, and they stared at her, astonishment on their faces and ill-intent in their eyes. No one moved, and no one said a thing. It was by far the most awkward moment Holly had ever experienced. But being her usual self, Holly took the situation for what it was and acted proactively, doing the one thing she was trained to do in this sort of standoff.

"Lower Elements Police! Drop your weapons, you are all under arrest!"

The gathering of pixies exchanged glances, and that was when Talbot let out an angry yell. "For Frond's sake, do something you idiots!"

"Don't do anything!" Holly retorted, taking her pistol from Talbot's chest and aiming it at the nearest pixie. She looked into his eyes, and there she saw the truth. These were hardened criminals, and they had all experienced enough jail time to prefer anything over going back behind bars. With only one LEP officer threatening their freedom, their choice was obvious. Darkness of heart and mind overcame reason, and Holly saw it work its way into their expressions, twisting them like a swift poison. At that moment she knew in her heart that there was no way out of it—that what came next was unavoidable. She felt the tension in the air, felt her body go rigid in anticipation, and smelled the very stench of fear—a pervasive, indescribable smell. "D'arvit!" she rasped, switching her blaster to rapid fire and aiming down the sights.

In an instant everything went to hell. The nearest pixie reached for his holstered blaster, and Holly shot him with a burst of neutrino fire, sending him to the ground in a heap while the other four dove for cover and drew their guns. Four weapons of various kinds were immediately aimed at her with killing intent, and with an outburst of noise they opened fire. Holly threw herself to the side, away from Talbot and behind one of the larger containers. Laser bolts flew all around her, melting metal and glowing crimson, and as she pressed herself against the protection of the metal container she heard a series of loud bangs split the air. The edge of the container just beside her head exploded into fragments, and the wall behind her became riddled with holes. She ducked low and gritted her teeth as the metal fragments flew past her, and she could feel the sting of one of them slice her cheek. Apparently one of the pixies had a human submachine gun.

Holly crouched behind her cover with a furious expression on her face. She was afraid, as anyone would be, but her anger outmatched it by a longshot. These pixies were intent on killing her, and there was nothing she hated more than such callousness, such corruption of the heart. This was the sort of madness that she had joined the LEP to stop. And stop it she would. Evil was upon her, and it was up to her to stop it before it took her life. I can't stay here, she thought as laser bolts and bullets tore the container apart piece by piece. To go out into the open was to rush headlong into a fusillade of death—not the best tactic—but it was obvious that it was the only option she had now. And so, with a determined expression and a burst of motion, Holly ran and jumped out into the open, flying sideways and shooting like a lunatic. Her shots peppered the positions that the pixies were holding, and struck one of them in the face. The remaining three ducked, giving Holly a chance to move.

The elven officer ran until she reached another large metal container, and this one offered a better position to fire from. Keeping her neutrino blazing, she tried to keep her opponents pinned down. But one of them, knowing what she was planning, made a desperate move to return fire, sticking his submachine gun—an old soviet ppsh-41—up over his hiding place and holding down the trigger. Even though he was blind firing, the weapon had a firing rate of over a thousand rounds per minute, and with seventy rounds in the magazine that meant that aiming was not very necessary in a pinch. Bullets flew all over the place, and Holly was forced to take cover.

"I could really use a concussor grenade right now!" she said to herself as bullets whizzed past her and ricocheted off the walls. Sparks flew as projectiles collided around her, and she could not help but dread the possibility of one of them striking her. Bullets were painful, obviously, and lead was even more poisonous to fairies as it was to humans. And yet with injury and death so close at hand, it was easy, oddly automatic, for her to think clearly, and with that clarity of thought she fought for her life.

The pixies were moving, flanking her on both sides, and though they tried to keep up suppressive fire their motion made it less accurate. Holly could not hear their footsteps in the chaos, but a ray of artificial sunlight from a window high above made their shadows stretch long enough for her to see. A shadow loomed on her left, and three more on her right—Talbot must have joined them. They were going to arrive at the same time, and that gave Holly an idea. With the two groups closing in, she looked up at the container she was hiding behind, noting its height. Easy.

She heard the sound of the human weapon being loaded again, and the resulting lull in the shooting let her hear their footsteps. They were close, so very close. A second was all it took. Holly holstered her neutrino and leapt up, grabbing the lip of the container and pulling herself on top of it. At the very same moment, on both sides of the container, the pixies burst around with their weapons aimed, thinking that they had her trapped. All they saw was open air, and Talbot, with a terrible glare on his face, spoke furiously.

"Where is she? Where the hell is she?!"

The sound of a neutrino charging up filled their ears, and they all froze still in a moment of terror and realization. Three shots rang out, dropping three of the pixies in an instant. Only Talbot remained, and he turned around slowly to see Holly standing right there, a foot away. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips curled into a stern, unforgiving snarl, and when Talbot met her glare she spoke coldly.

"Are you done?"

Talbot grimaced, but he did not drop his weapon. Instead he tried to raise it, and for that he received a powerful strike across the face with the grip of Holly's blaster. He fell backwards, tripped over his fallen comrades, and landed with a cry of pain. He still had his weapon in his hand, but Holly's boot swiftly stomped down on it, eliciting another cry from him.

"What was that for?!" he rasped, livid and terrified simultaneously, his desires to escape and to be unharmed clashing with one another. He glared up at the female officer, and growled through barred teeth. "I have rights you know! I have rights!"

"Tell that to someone who gives a troll's ass," Holly growled, crouching down and grabbing the blaster from his weakened hand. She deactivated the weapon and tossed it aside, all the while keeping her eyes on Talbot's. "Now let's see…Unlawful possession of a firearm, smuggling, exploitation of an endangered species, resisting arrest, obstructing an officer of the law, endangerment of the public, attempted murder, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera." She paused, grinning a little. "You're in deep. Real deep."

"We will make you pay for this!" the pixie growled. "I have powerful friends! They will know!"

Holly was unfazed, and she merely shrugged. "I hope they do. Otherwise it's going to be a lonely term for you in prison."

Talbot was beyond furious, his face crimson and his eyes wide with hatred. He spat on her, cursing her and the LEP whilst glancing furtively at the discarded weapons nearby. By this point Holly had had enough, and without any hesitation she shot the pixie several times with her neutrino, silencing him for a good while.

"Always such charmers," Holly muttered as she checked each of the unconscious fairies' vitals. All of them were perfectly fine, just bruised and in for a serious headache when they woke up. With all of this taken care of, the elven officer glanced around the room—at the destruction, the bullet holes, and the nearly imperceptible haze of gun smoke. There was silence where there had once been gunshots, calm after chaos, and in the midst of spent shell casings and scorch marks she realized that she had survived something that most would not have. By margins, thin and rare, she had lived. Luck—and more so skill—had kept her alive. With that thought in her mind, she took a long, steadying breath and got back to work. Even though she had done the right thing in her mind, she had a suspicion that her superiors would think otherwise.

Thirty minutes later, her suspicion proved to be very accurate. Holly was standing outside giving her recount to her section commander, Captain Leoht Evergreen. Backup had taken about as long as expected, and when they reached the warehouse Holly had already restrained the pixies and lined them up in a neat little row. Nevertheless, despite the obvious success of her mission, the first thing the taciturn captain did was reprimand her.

"You abandoned traffic detail to chase an armed fugitive through densely populated streets, refused to wait for backup, and to top it all of you started a gunfight that had this whole district locked down." Captain Evergreen looked her in the eye as he said this, and when he was finished Holly nodded.

"Yes sir, though under the circumstances it was impossible to avoid a firefight."

"You should have been more cautious," the elf replied, frowning deeply as he spoke. "You took too many risks going in there alone. The LEP does not need more dead heroes, and the public surely doesn't want officers running around pulling stunts like this."

"I understand sir," Holly replied. She suppressed the urge to say something more, to try and defend her actions, knowing that it would only anger the captain even more. When you were a lowly corporal in a very stratified system, you only had so much of a voice. Thus, even though she wanted to give her superior a verbal thrashing, she held her tongue. Better to be professional than to give him a reason to doubt her discipline.

Captain Evergreen nodded after a moment of careful thought, glancing at his data pad to enter in more information for his report. The hustle and bustle of officers and crime scene investigators working around them made it a little difficult to hear the sotto voce comment he made next.

"All that aside, Corporal Short, you did a remarkable job. Unorthodox, but commendable."

Holly nodded, surprised. "Thank you sir."

"Now I must excuse myself," Evergreen said, serious and unforgiving once again. "I still need to see to all the noise complaints you caused. Report to police plaza as soon as possible for a more official debriefing."

Holly snapped a perfect salute. "Yes sir!" When Captain Evergreen was gone, she let herself relax a little, though it was impossible to feel good. Returning to police plaza for debriefing was certain to include a very vexatious lecture and perhaps tangible penalties. She could already imagine herself getting suspended without pay, or even worse, demoted or even discharged. It was a terrible thing to think about, as every fiber of her being was invested in her career as an LEP officer—there was nothing else she wanted to be. But regardless of what happened, even if she escaped serious consequences, she could look forward to traffic detail for at least another eight months; about as alluring a prospect as having to wait tables at a B'wa Kell bar.

All of this because of those gods damn sweartoads, Holly thought as she walked back towards the street, where a police cruiser was waiting to give her a lift. It was a startling coincidence that a sweartoad jumped into her path a second later, and instead of getting out of the way it stopped right there, as if determined to perturb her even more. Holly stared at the sweartoad, a flat expression on her face and a violent glimmer in her hazel eyes. The toad stared back at her with its massive, silly-looking gaze, as if they were caught in a staring contest. Then, without warning—but all too expected—it opened its mouth and dispensed, in an infuriatingly silly tone, the longest string of expletives she had ever heard in her life. It was no coincidence that later, when a local business owner reopened his store, there was a suspicious hole in his window and a cursing toad stuck in his workshop, cussing away as if someone had drop kicked it far enough to set a new world record.

Holly's Apartment, Haven

What a day this has been, Holly thought as she lay on the cramped sofa in her cramped apartment, staring up at the ceiling with a tired gaze and a flat expression. Her gear and uniform were strewn about the room, tossed off and left where they had fallen, and an unappetizing pre-made meal sat untouched on the table, long since cooled off. It was dark, and the negligible space of the residence was oppressive, if not outright torturous, but for Holly it was irrelevant. All she wanted was to lay there and do nothing for a long while, to try and settle her mind and ease her body's aches and pains. Easier said than done.

The reception she had received at police plaza was about as expected, but no less unpleasant. The major in charge of her division, a humorless gnome named Ark Sool, had given her a memorable typhoon of scorn for her reckless actions, and though he did not see it fit to outright suspend her, he did make it evident that she had earned a spot on the list of officers he hated most. He had gone on and on about regulations and public image, and had virtually ignored the fact that she had singlehandedly exposed a smuggling ring that had links all over the Lower Elements. Instead of commending her, he gave her crap for everything, even the capture of the criminals, who he said had "inalienable rights" and "the power to sue." Overall, it became very clear to Holly that Major Sool hated any officer who went beyond protocol in exceptional situations, and that he would forever see her as a loose cannon. Ark Sool, the king of red tape, she thought angrily as she stared at the featureless ceiling. Gods help us if he ever becomes commander.

Apart from the dressing-down she received from the major, there were a few things that amalgamated to form somewhat of a silver lining. Things could have been far worse, and in the end nothing changed within her—her convictions, her beliefs, and her approach to police work would all remain the same, no matter what some ignorant superior said. It had actually been pretty nice discussing the incident with fellow officers, who were more inclined to be impressed, and then there was Foaly, one of the brighter technical officers rising through the LEP ranks. The eccentric centaur had been one of the first friends she had made in the LEP, and he was by far the best. His opinion on the matter had coincided with hers, as in many cases he too went beyond the invisible lines of his job's power, though always for good reason and with notable success. It would seem that they were both problem members of the LEP, but tremendously gifted. It was great to have someone who shared her precarious circumstance.

Now, with that all over for the night, Holly could look back on it and wonder. She thought mainly of the incident itself, preferring to analyze what had happened as opposed to the irritating aftermath. It was all there in her mind, clear as crystal, and as she went over it part by part she accepted that she was lucky to be alive. And yet, despite such a close encounter with death, the whole debacle with the sweartoads irritated her much more. She would have pondered this further, but her thoughts were obliterated in their infancy by a distracting beeping sound, one that she knew better than to ignore. In fact, as she sat up and looked for her communicator, she had her hopes up that it was someone in particular, the very someone who had inspired her to pursue the life she lived. And it was. The identification on the call was from Atlantis, and more specifically from the LEPmarine headquarters. The subscript read "Coral Short." Her mother. The elf answered it without any hesitation.

"Hello mom," she said with a growing smile on her face.

The voice that responded, despite the distortion of transmission, invoked so many memories. "Hello Holly."

There was a long pause, and for Holly it was unexpected. Over three weeks had passed since they had last spoken, and despite all that had happened Holly found herself locked in a state of awkward silence, unable to think of something to say. It dumbfounded her, but her mother spoke before the pause went on too long.

"I called as soon as I could. I got word of your little encounter with those smugglers, in fact I heard all the details."

Holly frowned, detecting the edge in her mother's voice. "That was fast."

"I think you know what sort of resources I have at my fingertips. Accessing LEP reports is easy."

"I see…"

"What were you thinking?" her mother demanded firmly, concern and anger in her voice.

Holly sighed. Yet again she had to defend her actions, this time to her mother. "I was doing my job. I could not stand by and do nothing while criminals like that roam free. I had to do it. Besides, I think the People are a lot safer as a consequence of my actions today than a hundred days of traffic detail."

"Would they be better off if you had gotten yourself killed?" Coral retorted, her fierce temper starting to surface in her words.

Holly, born with the same temper, spoke defiantly. "I know what I'm doing!"

"Well I am not very convinced! If you were not so lucky you would be dead right now! Don't you dare throw your life away like that!"

That last outburst was followed by silence, long and frigid. But as swift as a warm wind rising to melt a thin layer of snow, the tension subsided and an air of understanding took over. Coral sighed quietly, and spoke softly, the mother within her breaking through the hardened elf she had become.

"I am sorry, Holly. I know that I cannot tell you how to live your life, not anymore. I just cannot bear the thought of you getting into such situations. I cannot bear losing you, not after we have lost so much already…" She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I understand your actions, because they're what I would have done as well—you're so much like I used to be when I was younger. It is foolish and hypocritical of me to criticize your efforts. Sorry…"

Holly smiled a little, and spoke sincerely. "It's alright, I was being stupid too. I worry you a lot, too much, and I'm sorry about that, I really am."

"And I am sorry as well, for not being there for you."

Rarely did they see each other, so much so that it was as if they lived in their own little worlds, isolated by responsibilities and passions alike. Yet Holly did not think about this, and instead thought about the present—about the elf on the other end. "You are here for me now, mother, and that's what matters."

Again there was a pause, an intimate moment of silence in which so much was implied that need not be said. It was a moment of reminiscence, of affection, and of the comfort of love. It carried on as they spoke, melding flawlessly as does the wind with an open sky.

"I am proud of you, Holly," Coral said. "You have done extraordinary things, for the People and the world. Your father would have loved to see you as you are now. He would have danced in the streets for joy of you living your dream."

Those words meant so much to Holly; more than anything, at the moment. They filled her with warmth, with happiness, and in them she found that feeling of belonging, that linkage between those of the same blood, that banished even the slightest notion about being alone in the world. She was not alone, and it felt so wonderful. And yet, at the very same time, Coral's words brought sadness. It was a melancholy born out of the same family ties, in this case ones that had been broken by the saber of cruel fate. Her father had died long ago, his memory the only vestige of his existence, and to think of what could have been—and to envision it so wishfully—was a sorrowful act, one that made tears come to her eyes. If only he was alive. If only…

"It's been fifteen years," Coral said softly, reminding Holly of the time that had passed since that tragic day. It was an insignificant amount of time to a fairy, and yet it seemed like an eternity, given depth by the fact that each day, every morning since then, had started without a husband, without a father. For Holly, there was little to say that would express her feelings, but a tangent of thought made her speak her heart's deepest desire.

"Don't leave me too. Please, promise me that you will stay, no matter what."

Coral was clearly taken aback by the sudden request, as she took a few moments to respond. But when she did there was no doubt, no fear, and only strength and love in her words.

"I promise."

Holly smiled, even as her sadness continued to wet her eyes. "Thank you."

"Can you make that same promise to me?"

It was Holly's turn to wonder, but she did not wonder long—at that moment, it was so easy to be certain about everything. "I do, with all of my heart."

Coral's smile was evident in the words she spoke. "Thank you."

They talked a little longer, but the most important things had already been said, leaving the general, casual conversation about the happenings in their respective fields, and after such heartfelt words it was hard to speak about comparatively irrelevant matters. After ten minutes Coral sighed, a noise audible in the background.

"I have to go now, Holly."

Holly, who was once again reclining on her cramped couch, nodded slightly. "Duty calls, I know."

"When this is over I will see to it with command that I get some time to visit you. I won't take no for an answer from them, so it's a guarantee. I will see you soon, Holly, I promise."

"I look forward to it."

There was a moment of silence—of hesitation—and then Coral spoke for the last time.

"Goodbye Holly."

Holly smiled. "Goodbye."

The communication link went off a second later, leaving Holly disconnected from her mother—by hundreds of miles and imperceptible circumstances. But that was alright for her, because she knew that she was not alone, and that soon she would be able to catch up with her mother in person. What a wonderful day that would be! It made her smile even more, and it washed away all of the pain and the frustration that the day had given rise to.

With that smile on her face, and the glimmer of tears in her eyes, Holly lay back and thought; about her mother and father, about the past that had made her, and about the future that she wanted to live. Her memories, hopes, and her greatest dreams all flowed through like water in the river flow, glittering and clear. And in all of these thoughts was a clarity, crystalline and pure, that made her see through to the heart of it all, to what really mattered in the tempestuous experience of living. Her smile did not waver, nor did her bittersweet tears. Sometimes, it took moments like these to know that you were truly alive. And alive she was, so fully and completely.

LEP Marine Headquarters, Atlantis

Coral Short stood in her spacious office, looking out the large window that let her see into Atlantis and the great deep beyond. It was a wondrous view, a masterpiece that would move any heart, but she saw none of it, not even the brilliant towers of the city or the bustling life that flowed everywhere in between. Her mind was on her daughter, her precious child, and there was nothing that could outshine that, not even all of the gemstones in the world. Even her reflection she ignored, seeing past herself even though she looked right into her own gaze.

She was tall for an elf, willowy as some would put it, and that stature went well with her long auburn hair and fine features, combining to give her an appearance that many would envy. And though beautiful she was, her bright blue eyes contained a hardness, a strength of mind that those with unyielding determination had, and beyond that was her unbreakable spirit; the same spirit that Holly was said to have. This was her four-hundredth year, meaning that she was still young for an elf, but within that time there had been so many experiences, wonders, and trials—so much of the good and bad that existence could contain. For humans life went quick, and it seemed to her that the more years you had, the less you noticed them go by. Time was so easy to take for granted, even though it was the most valuable thing in the world. Sometimes it was good to stand still and feel the passing seconds, knowing that each one was precious, irreplaceable, and permanent.

Behind her, on her large desk, was the flashing light of her communicator. It indicated that she had work to do, meaning that there was a mission that had just sprung up. Just a few more seconds won't hurt, she thought, ignoring the situation and letting her mind wander over the years passed. She remembered how life had once been, when Holly had been younger and her husband was still alive—when they had been more of a family. It was a stark contrast to the present, where she and Holly were always torn away from one another by their respective paths, bound by duty and passion. The short conversation she had just had was the first in weeks, and it felt like the first in years. How time flew, and how distant people could become; how swiftly youth and relationships each faded into oblivion, like a lonesome sapling in a snowstorm. But Holly was not distant, nor had time worn the links between them. Theirs was a special bond, and theirs it would remain, even though they were worlds apart.

She certainly has my temper, Coral thought as she stared into the distance, the lights of the city glittering in her blue eyes. Their initial exchange had made it obvious that they shared that fiery attitude, and it was an attitude that they did not spare each other from. They had argued a lot over the years, a testament to their steadfastness in their own opinions, and many times did they fail to reach a mutual consensus on an issue. But that did not bespeak a rift between them, no matter how animated it got. In all of their squabbles, all of their arguments, there was a subtle affection, a love that was the root of everything; truly, it was the ones who you loved that you clashed with the most. Holly loved her mother more than the very dreams her reckless mind entertained, and admired her to no end. It was her mother, not her imagination, which had watered the seeds of her dreams and had given her the desire to pursue a life in the LEP. And it was her mother who had seen her through the hardest years of her life, when her father had passed away so terribly soon.

From a mother's perspective, it was only natural that Coral acted as she did. She cherished her daughter more than anything in the world, and as such she was determined for her to not get herself killed doing reckless things—her life was too precious to be thrown away like that. And yet Coral knew so very well from her own experience that there was only so much one could do. Love meant protection, but it also meant freedom, and she could not deny her daughter the passion she had in life. Despite all of its dangers, all of its uncertainties, and all of its innate costs, the path that Holly walked was noble, admirable, and untouchable. Coral loved and hated it, as any mother would love and hate the prospect of their offspring going forth into the tempestuous seas of life, alone and surrounded by a world full of danger, perfidy, and shadow. Her greatest fear was to lose her to that world, and yet her greatest shame would be to deny her that very same world. It was so difficult, so terrifying, plaguing her thoughts and haunting her dreams, but in time she knew she would learn to accept it and let it fade away. The truth was that her irreplaceable, precious daughter was all grown up, and like all mothers were fated to do, she had to let go. She had to believe in Holly—in her strength of mind, body, and soul—and accept that she was the master of her own fate, as free as an eagle gliding upon the warm updrafts of a summer's day. Looking out into the endless expanse of the ocean, beyond the lights and safety of Atlantis' sprawl, Coral Short smiled sadly, as if watching the past drift away forever on the currents of time. You have all my faith, Holly…

Her communicator beeped loudly and repeatedly, filling the silent room with its incessant noise and pulling her away from her tender thoughts, dragging her back into the world of the present and bringing with it the awareness of all that had to be done. To stand still and reminisce was something that she, Doctor Coral Short, rarely found time to do, and now was not an exception. She was running behind, though that was an acceptable cost for what she gained as a consequence. Still smiling from her thoughts, and feeling the mighty maternal emotions rage against her usual stoicism, the elf turned away from the window—away from the past and all of its ruminations—and faced the vexatious communicator. She glared at it, hating the fact that it only had one noise setting, and swiftly picked it up. "This is Doctor Short," she said professionally.

"Coral, we have a potentially serious situation on our hands." The voice on the other end was unmistakably that of her superior, Chief Torin Carnunnos of LEPmarine. He spoke smoothly, but with a sense of urgency, and in his tenor was a hint of apprehension uncommon of him to show. Something had him on edge, and Coral immediately snapped into a serious demeanor.

"What is the threat's classification?"

"Currently at level two, but it can potentially rise to a level five," the Chief replied. "We have a team on standby, but they are operating at a fraction of their usual number."

"Thanks for informing me. I want to be up there as soon as I can to assist. Can I get clearance ASAP?"

"Already have it. I knew you would want to, and in fact I want you up there heading it while I organize a relief team. I do not want to risk anything with this one."

Coral was already grabbing her personal effects and checking her data pad. "Briefing?"

"No time, too urgent. You should be up there within the hour."

Coral nodded and nearly kicked open her office door. "Running start huh?"

"The personification of it," the Chief said humorlessly. "Your crew has been informed and your ship has been prepped for launch. I will fill you in on the details as you make your way there."

Doctor Coral Short burst out of her office and set a swift pace through the pearlescent corridors of the LEPmarine HQ, her uniform immaculate and her rank insignia—that of a captain—glinting in the light. No one got in her way, due to both her position and her reputation for having a fierce temper. She gave curt nods to those who saluted her, but otherwise paid attention only to the hallway ahead of her and the voice speaking in her ear. Chief Carnunnos' explanation of the sudden situation was enough to make her double her pace.

She had been in the LEPmarine for many decades, working to help protect the environment from the rising threat of human influence. The LEPmarine was a sizable branch of the force, tasked with that very same thing. It patrolled the Atlantic for the most part, cleaning up after the humans and assisting ecosystems, but it also had bases globally to meet the requirements of every major body of water. Having long been an officer with this agency, Coral had dedicated her life to the mitigation of the terrible effects of humanity's pollution. She conducted countless hours of research, wrote volumes of studies and reports, and led operations to save the lives of the many species at risk of destruction. She fearlessly faced all of the threats the mud men ignorantly concocted, from radioactive waste and chemical spills to the rampant depletion of wildlife populations. It was difficult work, as every year the humans got worse, but she loved it—it was her passion. To save the creatures of the world was the greatest calling for her, and though she knew that it was impossible to save them all, she still tackled it each day with the intention of doing exactly that.

The LEPmarine had been heavily strained by the humans ever since the industrial revolution, but that was nothing compared to the changes after humanity's horrific Second World War, with the rise of the atom—the power to destroy the world. The onset of the Cold War brought with it the regular testing of nuclear weaponry, and much of it was done in the ocean, where the radiation could spread all over the globe and wreak havoc on the fragile marine life. Coral was disgusted by it, but even more so was she terrified. For decades the two major powers of the human race had been at a nuclear standoff, and so many proxy wars raged in between, claiming the lives of millions. All it would take was a single error, or a single act of monumental insanity, to set off the total destruction of the world. Not even the People, with all of their technology, could reclaim a surface composed of nothing but irradiated slag. It would mean the end of everything she was trying to protect. At this year of 1986, she had seen enough close calls to grow extremely weary of it all; it was as if the mud men were playing Russian Roulette with the entire world, except winning ultimately meant nothing to either side.

The crisis that now had her attention was yet another product of humanity's madness. With their use of nuclear power, particularly in warships, the humans generated appalling amounts of nuclear waste. For some reason they thought it was a good idea to dump it in the sea as well. One of such locations was the Barents Sea, used by the Soviet Union as their primary dumping ground for nuclear waste and spent assemblies. The LEPmarine's RBMD (Radioactive and Biohazardous Materials Disposal taskforce) had a constant presence there, and for the most part they had contained the worst of it. Today was a particularly pressing case, one that Doctor Short was tasked with heading. Any mistakes could lead to disaster that could affect the entire planet; the stakes were very high, to say the least. Coral was determined to do her best, which meant perfection and nothing less. Her spotless reputation supported such aims.

Her trip to the hangar bay took only two minutes. After exiting a gravity lift and passing through the security checkpoint, she was standing before the enormous expanse of the main hangar. It was filled with ships, ranging from shuttles and interceptors to the enormous private transports of political figures. The LEPmarine section of the hangar was down below, with its own subsection filled to the brim with submarines. These were impressive as well, marvels of engineering, and they were the People's primary weapon against humanity's pollution of the seas. Coral made her way to the elevator to take her to that level, and after swiping her keycard she heard a voice behind her.

"Hello Captain!"

This was one of her crew members, her pilot to be more precise. He was an elf named Riagán Trus, one of the younger graduates of the academy and a rising star in his field. When he appeared before Coral he was his usual self, dressed in his pilot suit and sporting an excited expression that was almost infectious. Enthusiasm was one of his key strengths, mixed with a little impulsiveness and humor, but his greatest was his determination. Like Coral, it was his personal goal to protect the world they lived in, and such passion—besides his skill—was the main reason Coral had chosen him as her pilot. She would not have anyone in her team but those who were passionate about their mission; if there is no passion in what one does, they are doing the wrong thing. Riagán was certainly doing it right.

With a youthful smile and a salute, the young elf joined her in the elevator. He had remarkably big green eyes, freckles on his childlike face, and short blond hair to top it all off. He looked almost half his age of eighty-nine.

"I guess the Chief has already filled you in?" he asked casually as they waited for the elevator to reach the lowest level.

"In an abbreviated sense, yes," Coral replied.

"We were just out yesterday too," the young Corporal said with a grin. "Those mud men don't give us a break, ever."

Coral stared blankly at the wall. "They never will."

"Well that's alright," Riagán said, his voice exuding a youthful confidence. "I will keep on their heels, right to the very end. They won't go unchecked, not on my watch!" He rubbed his hands together, grinning widely. "And I don't mind the extra time in the cockpit. Not. One. Bit."

Coral smiled a little, her stoicism temporarily shattered by her colleague's character. His was a rare persona, and a very enjoyable one once you got used to it. It was not surprising that he loved to pilot the submarines—in fact, he had exceeded every expectation and shattered the records to boot. Even if there wasn't a pressing danger, he would try to get out there, for any reason, just to take a ship for a spin. Coral could tell that a month full of arduous work had not dulled that desire, but rather amplified it tenfold. She knew that she could count on him to do his very best.

When they reached the LEPmarine section, they hightailed it over to the priority launch tubes, running as fast as they could whilst the sound of alarms blared overhead. Coral, in the best shape of her life, did not even get winded by sprinting a hundred meters to the launch area, while Riagán, despite all of his hot air, breathed heavily. Priority launch tube number thirty-seven was waiting for them when they entered through an airtight doorway, and Coral could not help but smile when she saw her ship.

There she was, firmly secured by docking clamps, basking in the overhead lighting like a masterpiece in a viewing gallery, the Sirona. Originally one of LEPmarine's standard DSRV-10s—deep sea reconnaissance vehicle, version 10—the Sirona was now the pinnacle of present technology, featuring more modifications and upgrades than any other vessel in the fleet. Its design enabled it to do virtually every task available, such as underwater transport, marine research, water decontamination, waste capture, and stealth reconnaissance. The only thing it could not do was fight in a war, which was not only regulation for the non-militarized branch of the LEP, but also a moral preference for Coral herself. She wanted her legacy to be one of progress and healing, not destruction. Her smile did not waver as she looked the vessel over from where she stood, eyeing its lines and contours as one would a fine specimen. She ran her hand along its side, still smiling, and spoke ever so softly.

"We have more work for you, Sirona. I know you will not let us down." Having used the same vessel for nearly ten years, Coral had become attached to it on a significant level. Just as Riagán was her pilot, so was the Sirona an indispensable member of her team. She was reliable, sturdy, and full of surprises—a perfect ship for a captain like her. As she felt the cold touch of the ship's alloy hull, Coral could remember, with startling clarity, all of the times the old girl had seen her through dangerous situations; all the times she had kept her alive. It was a good feeling.

"About time you two got down here," a new but familiar voice called out.

Coral looked to her right, seeing that the vessel's side hatch was open. A head was poking out, revealing a pair of dark brown eyes cast in a look of overt vexation; black hair and pale skin made for a stark contrast, and her voice, filled with urgency and seriousness, effortlessly grabbed attention. Coral smiled and nodded at the protruding face. "Vera, it's good to see you beat us here, as always."

"Since when was it ever a competition?" the pixie stated flatly.

"Good point," Coral replied, patting Vera on the shoulder as she entered the vessel.

Corporal Vera Leofflaed was another crew member of the Sirona—and another interesting individual, to say the least. Only slightly older than Riagán, she was also one of the newer members of LEPmarine, and a very commendable one. Having achieved top grades in every field of study and excelling in engineering, Vera was a natural when it came to the maintenance and handling of an advanced vessel like the Sirona. She loved numbers and demanded exactitude from both herself and others, and never did a piece of machinery baffle her; no matter the problem, she knew the cause and the solution. Being a pixie, she was naturally inclined to ruthless ambition—like the head of Koboi industries—and she was indeed ambitious, determined to fly beyond her goals. Nevertheless, she was kindly on the inside, and openly averse to the stereotype that pixie's were victim to. And ultimately, she was a dedicated friend and colleague, reliable in every way and surprising in many others. Though she intended to move on to even greater things in her career, for now she served as an exemplary copilot, technician, and navigations officer. Together with Coral, Riagán, and the Sirona, they formed a solid team.

"Everything is waiting on standby," the pixie said stoically as the three of them walked through the central corridor in the ship. "The Chief has given us the green light, and Brigadier-General Winters has offered us a few additional ships as escort."

Coral nodded, though she frowned at the mention of Evandrus Winters, the head of the military garrison in Atlantis. He was a rough elf, and generally saw every issue as a nail that needed whacking. "Tell Winters that his offer is appreciated, but we do not need an escort. Those navy submarines are heavier than ours and make a lot more noise. I want this done swiftly and silently."

"Yes Ma'am," Vera replied, getting to work immediately on her communicator.

The submarine was small by human standards, and even for the three fairies it was pretty cramped in the short corridor. The control room was a little more spacious, and when they entered it they were greeted by the glow of the computer consoles and the hum of systems warming up. There were three seats in the room, two situated side by side at the front and one a few meters behind them. The latter was on a raised platform and surrounded by control panels and screens, and that was where Coral Short sat down to begin her work. In front of her, Riagán and Vera took up their spots in the pilot and copilot seats, strapping in silently and then donning their flight helmets—very much like the helmets for LEP fighter pilots, but calibrated for the underwater environment. The holographic displays on their helmets lit up, as did all of the screens, adding a distinct greenish glow that all the data was shown in.

"Systems are all warm and toasty," Corporal Trus said animatedly, flicking switches and grinning like a dwarf in a goldmine.

Corporal Leofflaed was reading the screens before her, juggling two-dozen different things at once with marked ease. "Reactor running at optimal levels, no abnormalities in the propulsion drive. All ports are sealed, life support at one-hundred percent, hazard protection field online…Everything checks out, Captain. HIGHCOM has transmitted our destination and is giving the green light to engage."

Coral Short was sitting patiently in the command chair, reading the data on her primary screen and studying the course they were to set. In her peripheral vision she could see the familiar face of her husband, an old photo of the two of them taken many years ago. It was taped to the side of the main control panel alongside an image of Holly, always visible thanks to the glow of the screens, and when she caught sight of it in her peripherals she stopped for a moment and looked at it, feeling many emotions at once and remembering, so very clearly, the time when that picture had been taken. It was so long ago, and yet it stung anew, reminding her that her love was gone forever and that she was doomed to live without him, for however long that was fated to be. Nevertheless, despite tears beginning to form in her eyes, she smiled.

"Watch over us, my love."

Her husband, Bartholomaios Short, smiled back at her from the photo, frozen in that look of happiness; a happiness that they had shared, and one that Coral longed to feel again. One day, she thought soberly, turning back to her screens and focusing on her work. The photo remained in the corner of her vision, a silent comfort and a source of bittersweet memory. One day…

There was a sudden jolt of motion as the submarine was lowered from its docking clamps, into the pool of water that lay beneath it. Everything took on an emerald hue through the main window, and bubbles danced before it, white amidst that sea of subtle green. A short tunnel stretched before them, lit up by flashing yellow lights, and a red signal loomed above its entrance—a red signal that suddenly turned green as well. Coral pressed a few buttons, sat back in her seat, and spoke determinedly.

"All ahead full."

Corporal Trus grinned anew and, with expert proficiency, sent the sleek submarine into motion, right through the short tunnel and out into the startling vastness of the ocean. It was a smooth launch, perfect in every way, and when they met the deep currents of the Atlantic there was little difference. Riagán was one of the best, and Coral was reminded of this every time.

"Our route is charted out, Corporal," she said stoically. "I want to be at the AO in fifty."

The young elf laughed a little, and then spoke confidently. "I'll do it in forty."

Coral grinned, whilst Vera, due to her desire for numerical exactitude, shook her head in silent lamentation. Then the corporal put the propulsion system to full power, sending the vessel blasting forwards into the blackness of the ocean and leaving the vibrant lights of Atlantis in its wake, moving towards whatever fate had in store for them. Soon they were gone, leaving not even a transient sign of their presence. If only they knew what was going to happen, but fate was a perfidious force, treacherous and full of wretched intentions. For now it was a common, if not routine, mission they were undertaking. How much more it would turn out to be.