Author's Note;
IMPORTANT: In case you missed it last time, this fic is going to contain significant spoilers for all the AF books, not just the ones before TEC. I've changed the first chapter's A/N to have this warning. I'm really sorry if you needed to know before.
Very special thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, your support means so much to me!
On another note, you should totally read Colf's WARP trilogy. It's really funny and heartfelt, full of unmistakable Artemis references and some pretty rad characters. I LOVE Garrick! There's a villain.
Disclaimer; I do not own Artemis Fowl and related characters. Enjoy!
—•:;*"~€/°&^—
CHAPTER ELEVEN: STARLIGHT
"Around here," said Vinyayà, her knees giving way to perch on one of the dark, glossy rocks that squat guarding the rich black sand from the struggling reach of the sea. As evening blended seamlessly in with nighttime, the sea was calmed and the rocks lost much of their proud gleam. Everything turned quiet, solemn, like lying in wait for the moon's full glow to fall upon it.
The elf tapped at her wrist-computer, which emitted no noise. No warning. The portal was still open, and now that Foaly had got her message explaining the goings-on of this strange world, he wouldn't be reeling the shuttle in without her either. "I can take only one passenger at a time, but we need to be double quick. Frond knows that Koboi isn't going to take long to realize her mistake."
Uneasy silence greeted this statement. She frowned up at the mildly contemplative faces.
"Something I'm supposed to know?"
Holly only sighed, closing her eyes. Fowl looked about to break whatever news to her, but Root interrupted before he had the chance to start.
"We can't go back. Not just yet. We're here on a mission to get ahold of the one thing that can stop Koboi."
The Wing Commander raised an eyebrow, but didn't look skeptical. "Haven is on the verge of total collapse. Atlantis has already fallen. And the LEP's best people are all dead to the world, all because my command has failed. Your leadership is what the People need right now. I won't deny them that."
Holly was taken slightly aback by the bluntness of these words. "You can't take the blame–"
"You haven't answered our initial query," reminded Artemis. "Because that answer, I can assure you all, will determine if we return to our world now or not."
Root glared daggers at him. "I've no time for your games, Fowl."
The human took a place on one of the scattered rocks and didn't lose his patience. "Wing Commander Vinyayà is no doubt immune to Opal's Freaks–inherent, or acquired?"
Vinyayà snorted, averting her eyes to where the moon's reflection met the oddly bright waters of the sea. "There are no what ifs, Fowl, only that Root and Holly need to get back to the LEP and do something about the Freaks in our world."
"If your immunity was acquired–an uncommon drug, perhaps, or a concoction of Foaly's own–then we can abandon this mission where it stands and it won't prove to be a loss. The whole purpose of wanting to infiltrate Logos is to get hold of this so-called immunity serum–but if we already have an immunity serum back in our world, something that protects the user from the call of Ethos, all we have to do is return and synthesize that concotion. Hand it over to our allies here so that they can help us make a move against Koboi."
Another stretch of silence followed, this time thoughtful for the most part. Except Vinyayá wasn't considering it.
"If your allies are in war with Koboi, that is not our priority."
Artemis raised a testy eyebrow. "And if our allies are the only ones with a basic idea of how she can be stopped? Really, Wing Commander, I don't doubt that you are very perceptive. It can't have skipped past you. I rather think you have other reasons for not answering the question in regard to your immunity."
Vinyayà glowered at him, forehead in an impressive crease. Root and Short looked at her instead. She felt their gazes on hers.
The elf dropped her eyes and sighed. It was a losing battle, anyway, because her stance itself didn't feel right.
"Axithoflyn," she said, tonelessly. "Non-prescription painkiller. It's a..."
"A banned drug," finished Root numbly. The expression he wore was one of scarcely concealed astonishment. "But I...I don't get it. Why? How?"
"I take it," explained Vinyayà, fighting the urge to keep her eyes stuck on the moon. "Alright? I've been on it for the past six years, and I continue to take it and that's why I'm immune to the creatures that got the rest of the LEP. Foaly tested the drug and it turned out in our favour. We were to put every field officer on it, but there was Council red tape and issues with getting the drug down straight from its plant- which was operating without a permit -right before Atlantis happened. It was futile in the end. Opal's freaks got our squadrons."
"They're...in Ethos?" For the first time in his career, Root looked absolutely stunned. This was without a doubt the worst progression of a bad situation into a right mess that he'd ever had to deal with. And that Vinyayà, his long-standing comrade and friend, had been on one of those accursed pills for the past six years, breaking the law every single time, was unbearable. It was about time he started shouting.
"Well, Fowl?" The Commander turned to bark at the Mud Man. "Are we going to go or stay?"
When Artemis shot him an irate look rather than answer, he was more than prepared to shout a second time, but his words were strangled in his throat because of something his eyes laid on. And after him, Vinyayà stared as well.
Holly's earlier sentiment that everything on the island was worth looking at sprang back to mind. The placid, white reflection of the moon still glinted in the water and the horizon still rode a slow, choppy line. The sea breeze still puffed in their faces. The only thing that was new, however, was prominent, and lit up the entirety of the shoreline like iridescent glass shards that trapped a foamy blue light.
"Bioluminescence," explained Artemis, but even he couldn't ruin the magic of the moment. "Ostracods and plankton emiting bioluminescent light to scare away predators."
"Shut up, Mud Boy," whispered Holly, not sparing him so much as a sideways glance. "Just shut up."
Foaly hadn't taken his eyes off the dark, looming portal before the mothership even once since the Wing Commander had left. As predicted, there was no means of communication, and the standard tracking software installed in her pod's computers didn't broadcast a signal that he could pick up from his end of the spectrum. And he wasn't the only one biting his nails in apprehension; several techies were, too, but that was more for the fear of the other-worldly monsters making a reappearance than the safety of the LEP's last remaining senior officer. If Vinyayà was lost, he knew, he might as well surrender to Koboi now and spare them all a waste of energy. They would be shooting aimless in the dark. Their every move would be an unguided one, a potshot. And even though Foaly had complete confidence in his leadership skills when it came to the team of technicians, there was no way he could take charge of the LEP. No way he would fill in for Root or Vinyayà, or perhaps Ash Vein if the guy wasn't suffering unspeakable torment right now in the acidic, chilling backdrop of the Freaks' dreamland. No, the only ones left to take the reins was the Council. And Heaven only knew what ego-driven nitwit from some far-off division they would appoint.
Besides, if anything happens to Vinyayà...Root will kill me.
He glanced over at his dimming screen. The message he'd sent around two hours ago was still confined to a slate-gray box, colour code for undelivered. It was a pointless hope anyway.
He stared back up at the portal. Its dark, ebbing currents waved right back at him.
The technical crew was almost gone now, and the wide cockpit area was almost empty. There was something about the silence that came off as disconcerting.
He glimpsed the screen again. Slate-gray.
There was no marine life around the portal. Foaly dully noted that animals did tend to skip around and avoid the dangerous unknowns whenever possible.
Slate-gray.
Two hours. The Wing Commander was either following a significant lead, or dead, or dying. Dying was unlikely, his thoughts rambled on. If she was in the shuttle-pod, that is. She could steer the thing around and come back. Dead was a real possibility. If she was dead she couldn't steer the pod back.
That damned gray colour.
His official communicator buzzed for the fifth time in the past hour and he silenced it without a second thought. Sooner or later the Council would realize the futility of their calls and turn up bodily demanding to know what was going on.
His eyes flickered to the screen again, restless.
Light green.
Damn it, I shouldn't have let her in there. I've probably signed her death warrant and possibly that of the whole fairy civilization.
Foaly's eyes widened. Wait...light green?
He slammed his fists down on either side of the screen and bent his back in half out of the shock and eagerness while his eyes read from just three inches away from the text.
Foaly. On island. Root, Short here. Koboi possibility. KIT.
Communication! This was an A-grade miracle. Foaly hurriedly started tapping back a reply.
Bring em back W/Com. WNT.
He hit send. Field standard for Waste No Time, like Vinyayà had used field standard for Keep In Touch. But it turned out he was right after all- because the moment he looked up from the dashboard, towards the portal, his heart nearly stopped mid-beat.
His eyes expected to see the great hole of looming darkness before him. His eyes were disappointed with something much less, a smaller, shrinking hole, the black currents zapping from around it cackling, dying.
The sirens were alerted at once. The klaxons, they blared. The mothership, with its strong, creaky spool, started calling back the piton cable clipped to the Wing Commander's shuttle pod; but it was in vain. A foreboding sense of dread overcame him. Vinyayà was on the island.
But with one incredible heave, the empty shuttle pod was yanked out of the confines of the portal's closing mouth as it cackled and sparked for the final time. And then the pod was back, safely tucked in the mothership's hatch, but the looming hole of pitch darkness did not exist anymore.
The whole group had met at their camping site from the night before- a lonely stretch of the black coast towards the northern part of the island. It wasn't a huge island, but it it wasn't particularly small either. Harpsichord boasted a native population of seven hundred as well as a tourist population of about two hundred per season, yet was quite full of unexplored and undiscovered locations on account of the fact that certain parts of the island were branded no trespassing zones for reasons unspecified...a deadly blackmarket for organ-trade and lava caves accommodated by the monsters of your nightmares; now they knew.
Holly found herself reasonably stunned by the end of her enquiry with regards as to what the other team had undergone. Testament to this shock was the human girl who appeared to be six years old shifting behind Caleb uneasily, not sure just what to make of her new environment. It was only after the swap of stories and a round of brief introductions for both the newcomers' sakes that the real issue at hand was brought forth.
"We can't take long to decide," Vinyayà gingerly crossed her arms over her newly-healed ribs; not with her own magic, but Holly's. "That doorway isn't going to stay open forever. Opal is bound to realize her mistake."
"Do you have a sample of this drug with you right now?" Artemis managed not to look perturbed at the impending threat from Koboi. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he'd had quite enough of the maniacal pixie now to last a lifetime. He sat in an almost regal stance atop one of the glossy rocks near to the entrance of the pitched tent, which was at the moment more a source of lamplight than a lodging as they were all circled outside. Despite the deplorable condition of his shirt and trousers from a rough time's crawling along tunnels, the idea of sitting on the sand like everyone else was unthinkable.
Vinyayà shook her head. "We ordered several crates but none of them arrived before the Atlantis mission. I only had three pills with me back then and that's over now."
"There's nothing to it, then. You're going to have to go back- for a sample. It's all our allies need to get a clue about how Opal's Freaks are to be overcome. You will be able to synthesize the drug once you have a sample, Caleb?"
The boy snorted. "We don't live in the stone age, Artemis."
"Your only vehicles are ox-drawn carts," Holly pointed out.
"That's a different kind of stone age," Caleb rolled his eyes to the Heavens. "And yes, my mother has people capable of it. That's what we were planning to do with Opal's resistance serum, remember?"
"No time to waste," Vinyayà got right to her feet to emphasize this. "Foaly's just sent a message. I docked the shuttle not very far from here, just about..." Here she checked her wrist comp. "Fifteen minutes. I'll be back; don't relocate."
"We'll have to relocate if Opal happens upon us."
The elf considered this. "Leave a marker, then."
"Wing Commander," Root got to his feet as swiftly as was possible with all the half-healed injuries from before. "Frankly speaking it's stupid to venture out there on your own knowing Koboi's looking for us. I'll go with you."
Vinyayà raised an eyebrow, already well on her way. "I think, Root, that your current state would prove more a liability. No disrespect."
"None taken," grunted Root, who considered for just a moment before trudging after her nevertheless.
The nighttime had grown into the sky and soaked it so much in black ink that even the moon shone no more, but the spread of shimmering blue marine life in the waters and on the rocks provided all the illumination that night would otherwise miss. The journey to where Vinyayà's shuttle pod lay bobbing in the water was a fast-paced and guarded one, weary of Koboi or the calls from the Pathos monsters. But as the night wore on and their destination grew close, conversation found its way between the longtime comrades.
"These monsters of hers," began Vinyayà, ever curious. "What're they actually called?"
"Freaks," Root responded. "Frankly? I think that's just Caleb, but Fowl and Short seem to have picked on it too."
"Small world," Vinyayà looked at her device for the umpteenth time. "That's what the LEP calls them as well."
"Maybe it's the most appropriate term they could think of," Root shook his head, kicking off a spot of glittery black sand caught in his shoe's rim. "Most of my officers are infuriatingly childish, anyway."
They walked on in comfortable silence, but that wasn't to say they slowed in their pace or dropped their weary guard of Opal's creatures.
"Speaking of kids," said Vinyayà suddenly. "I didn't mention how my first night on this island went, did I?"
"No," and this time Root was curious, in spite of himself.
"Strangest thing, really. A tiff with a local at the marketplace and this bunch of kids- pixies and humans- offer me an empty stable of theirs."
"Kids?"
"Mm. I was starting to like having them around," the Wing Commander halted in her tracks, scanning the choppy horizon. The winds were a little faster now. The wrist-comp remained muted.
"There," she stated, making for the retreating shoreline. Wading into the fluorescent water with her sight determinedly set on the camouflaged pod, she looked almost like one of the mythical sea sirens from the days before Frond, known for their silvery manes and bright blue scales. Reconsidering this observation, Root snorted. That damn centaur's Riverbend classics were getting to him.
He didn't notice Vinyayà signalling him until her voice, strangled in the strong winds, cut through his head.
"It's not here."
"What?"
"The shuttle," she was already past waist level and swimming in the water now, a distance from shore. It was hard to make out what she was saying. "But the tracker didn't go off. It should be here."
Koboi. That was one possibility. She could have had it removed. Leave them no way back. Root was about to shout this theory into the wind, and that their presence here was a trap, but a sudden curse sliced through the still and peaceful night. And then a loud sound, like a draining sink, like a thinning hurricane, while the other elf disappeared completely from sight.
He stared with shocked eyes, momentarily too stunned to move. The calm was gone now. The quiet was shattered. The sea rose and lurched in panic, utterly disrupting its glittering surface and hurtling against the rocks.
Root was in the water before he knew it, cracked ribs forgotten, making a mad stroke for the uncertain spot he'd last seen the Wing Commander, but unlike hers his was not an LEP suit and provided no bearing, no protection from the stinging waves. His line of vision hastily shifted between a stark blue sea and the black air of night with occasional blackouts brought by the salt in his eyes. He breathed in water. Even his normally excellent swimming capabilities were of little use to him now because these were no ordinary currents.
He was taken with the violent swirl of water and saw no more than the world in a blur, fast, scurrying. And then he picked up something other than the angry bubbling of the sea; beeping. Startled beeping like the machine itself was being strangled.
Wrist comp.
He grabbed out in one of the several similar directions and found nothing. Grabbed again. And again. It would have helped to have his vision at a time like this.
He wrangled again, and his fingers clutched like claws around a smaller, rough palm. Her weight became instantly obvious. Dead weight. Deader yet in the spitting currents.
But he yanked still, pulling her to him as he kicked against the spinning downward pull of the water. It didn't take him long to realize that Vinyayà was conscious. Conscious, but not doing a thing about her predicament.
He saw it. The eye of the cyclone. The fast-closing black portal.
Had the water allowed the pair to swear in some rather colourful Gnommish, that's exactly what they would have done right then.
The tents were exactly where they had left the rest of the crowd, pitched up and occupied but with dark interiors. Not a single light was on, but no evidence of a struggle was an assurance in that regard.
The sea was placid now, and the waves fluttered pulses in the gentle winds. Light radiated from the bioluminescence, making the black sand glisten like tiny stars under their feet. It was difficult to think that the very same sea had nearly killed them just moments before.
"Koboi really doesn't waste time," remarked Vinyayà sullenly, crousing her arms tightly in an attempt to ward off the cold. "Now we're going to have to go through with this key-hunting business, aren't we?"
Root shrugged. "Better than going back to Haven and finding the portal closed."
"I really don't know about that," the Wing Commander admitted. "For one, do you trust Fowl? Or these mysterious allies of yours? From what the convict mentioned, she didn't even give a name."
"Fowl-" Root began, and paused. He mentally recounted the events of the previous days, the circus, his ideas. It would not be fair not to give the mud whelp the benefit of the doubt now. "Fowl has proven himself. At least in having the common intrest in getting out of this mess."
"Does Major Short think the same way?"
"She's very trusting, I'll give you that," he snorted. "But when it came to someone who's kidnapped her and held her for ransom, it would've taken an immense amount of proof before she decided to trust him. I trust Holly's judgement."
"And I trust yours," Vinyayà affirmed, and for the briefest of seconds their eyes met. Each stared back at years of experience on the battlefield in the common interests of the People. Years of trusted judgement. It wouldn't make sense to withdraw from that trust now.
When Root looked away he coughed a little suddenly into his fist. "I forgot to thank you. For earlier. That was...incredible, actually."
His longtime comrade raised an eyebrow. "Blindly rushing into battle with a gun?"
"Unorthodox strategies depend on the strategist."
Vinyayà's firm demeanor dropped just an instance. She smiled. "I have to thank you, too. I could've extracted myself from the situation, but I was in a little shock as it was. So...I appreciate it, I suppose."
Root could never have seen what came next. Vinyayà stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. It was the tiniest of contact, but it somehow managed to send the blood vessels in his face into overdrive, giving rise to that beetroot-like complexion famously associated with his short temper. Now, for the first time, it had an entirely different reason.
"Does this situation strike you as oddly familiar, though?" she asked, tone once again bussines-like, cutting through his flustered thoughts.
"The goblin rebellion," Root supplied at once, glad for the distraction. The idea had been playing in his head for some time. "We're cut out from Haven and it's all in Foaly's hands."
"He'll be able to handle it. He's had experience," the sentiment sounded more like she was reassuring herself.
"He's learnt a lesson or two," agreed Root, but his throat turned to sandpaper at a new thought. "But then so has Koboi."
The damp caves were damper than usual in the soft light of the fire torches on either side of the mirror.
Taking the mask off was a relief, even if the mask had been the only thing that had prevented today's situation from turning into a right royal mess. Kyre took a good look at her face in the cut-glass surface. Dark indents formed under her eyelids in the shape of the mask.
"You shouldn't wear that ridiculous thing when it's only us," came a neutral voice from the mouth of the cave, a short two meters away. Startled, the mask nearly jumped out of her hands. She swiftly tied it around the back of her head and turned to face the intruder.
He was leaning against the rock wall, a contemplative look on his twisted face. It was not an old face, not twisted with age, but there was a malicious tint to the eyes and sharp angles to the cheeks in a way that was quite oddly...ominous.
"Regulations, your Highness." Kyre kept her voice straight. It wouldn't help her to sound insubordinate.
"Please, Lieutenant, we make the rules," the tall man approached, and Kyre instinctively backed away at the look on his face. Was that supposed to be charming? She rather felt like prey being cornered, at the sneering jaws of the predator. He rather looked like the predator.
It would have probably been best to say Of course, Master, but Kyre's sense of pride was not going to take so steep a drop. This was only an act after all. There was a limit to what she was going to pretend. So she said instead, in a voice that came out far icier than would benefit her, "I have contributed time and effort to the cause of Pathos, Highness. I may not be your equal in this case, but I am damn well deserving of some shred of respect."
The tall man froze. He had never been on the receiving end of this attitude from his minors. No, that was usually handled to him by other elite members of the Pathos ruling class.
Signed my death warrant, thought Kyre soberly. Why a changing room of all places?
But scanning her with his dark eyes, the man finally only said in a lowly voice, "Quite a nerve you got there, Kyre." He suddenly cracked a maniacal grin. "I like it."
"Don't even think about it," hissed the woman, not backing down now because her back was already against the sink rim. "You know what will happen if any other Pathos elites come to know of your tastes."
His expression changed a second and final time, and Kyre saved this up for future confrontations. A weak spot.
"Quite a nerve," he repeated, his glare pronounced but controlled. "Well. I will be seeing you at the appointed time. And not a second too late, Lieutenant."
He turned on his heel and she was on her own again and for that she was glad, infinitely so.
She turned back to the mirror and observed the mask's indents and her dark circles.
This day...this had been a bad day. Her dual-role was still unknown to Opal or her superiors, but Caleb...
She shook it all from her head, physically like the bitter memories would go away. If that elf female- and here she guessed, one that came from their world - hadn't turned up, then her initial plan would've been put to action. It may have saved Artemis and Holly, but it would have definitely given away everything she had worked tirelessly for years on end to achieve ever since the rebellion.
That was too close.
But she was going to be questioned. Why submit to the enemy that easily? Why fail to protect Koboi for all she was worth?
Caleb needs to get the final key, she thought a little desperately as she exited the lit confines of the small cave and walked out onto the grainy beach. How much longer can I delay them?
And Pathos did not appreciate delay.
She met her superiors- Opal, the man with the tinted eyes and his throne-mate, a female with similar onyx beads and an unusually tall, authoritative figure - in the lava caves, candlelight flickering like water ripples across their faces. Opal and Kyre herself were the only ones standing, a clear hint as to what the power heirachy was here.
"Opal tells us that you weren't up to your usual standards today, Lieutenant," much as she wanted to pointedly avoid those eyes, it would not help her cause. The other woman was not the sort who tolerated dodging. "Is there an explanation that isn't going to lead to your demotion?"
Kyre stood on high alert, unblinking. "I was simply exerted after the last operation, your Majesty. Some injuries haven't healed yet."
The woman on the throne's eyes flickered in turn to Koboi. Her voice was a most displeased, flat tone. "And why could you not heal this human? You've risked critical failure. I don't take news of failure well, Opal."
"I did," it was a lie through the teeth, Kyre knew. Koboi hadn't completed the ritual in weeks.
The woman leaned back against her rock throne and sighed. "Our portals must still be interfering with fairy magic, then. I give you one job, Vost..."
The male bristled. "You wouldn't have done a better job yourself, dearest cousin."
"In the next conquest I'll hand you something simpler, then," she shot back. "Something your tiny little brains can figure out. If they had failed to retrieve the key because you can't open a simple doorway without ruining things-"
"You are not in a position to give me orders in the first place, Esthre. You're lucky I followed them last time because fatherwas around."
His cousin treated him to an almost automatic hiss. "Shut up. Reveal no more." She turned to look back at Opal and Kyre, their mortal subjects, and her eyes narrowed at the look on the former's face. "What's that you're laughing about, Fairy?"
Koboi didn't repress her grin. "You're really not top of Pathos then, are you?"
"Once you serve your purpose, pixie," promised Esthre in barely hidden impatience. "I will only give you two days to run. And then I will kill you."
Opal didn't look in the least bit fazed. Her motives were for herself, of course. She didn't care what this spoilt princess achieved in the process, and she didn't care what consequences her actions would bear later. Because by the end of it all, Opal Koboi would get her way.
Still she said, only mildly convincing, "I serve and I obey, Majesty. Jibes are just beyond me."
Esthre was violently tapping her fingers on her armrest. "And for that you will pay. Now what are we to do about our newfound enemies? Do you have a plan or do I have to hand that to you as well?"
Opal straightened somewhat. "Yes. They're too great a risk to set aside. They have to be eliminated aside the earliest possible opportunity, now on this island."
Kyre started. No. They'll be in no state to defend themselves...especially if Vost gets involved. "We'll get backtracked in our actual goal. We're on a serious time restraint, are we not?"
"If we don't kill them now, trusty Lieutenant," said Opal testily. "There will be interruptions from them in the future. This is about the best chance we'll get."
"But how do we know they're still on the island?" protested Kyre. "After the scare we gave them, they are probably far away from here and closer to the third key by now. It's what I would do in their position. That way they can beat us without even having to face us."
Opal was fuming by the end of this argument. "They need to be dealt with strong and harsh. We won't have to race them if we kill them first."
"And if they're already out of our reach, heading for the third key, they have a headstart. We need to hurry up. Bether safe than sorry."
"Ladies," Vost snapped his fingers. And when a wealthy, powerful prince of a nightmare world calls for attention, attention is always paid. The cavern descended into silence. Even Esthre leaned back in her throne, gaze trained intently on her cousin.
"We have a simple solution to our problem," continued the prince. "And a solution that doesn't compromise on our goal in the first place. The key is the driving factor here. We want it, they want it, and it is all that we should focus on. But I don't doubt our adversaries' threat," he looked towards Opal. "It's enough if we engage our little pets in dealing with them."
Opal was practically fuming, though she could afford to show no disagreement. "They have one who is immune to the Freaks, Highness."
Vost cracked a cynical grin. "My dear fairy, do you really think that the Freaks are the only weapons at our disposal?"
It was about another hour and a half later that the Council sent its representatives, bodily, to apprehend the centaur who had by now evaded their efforts to reach him no less than fifteen times. The worst of surprises came when Foaly, moping and feeling like a sack of troll dung, bumped into said representatives just as they entered the docking-bay in Police Plaza.
My day is going great. Fabulous. Never had a better day.
"Is there anything I can help you gentlemen with?" he inquired in a less-than-delighted tone that arose by itself.
"The Council is detaining you," said one of the two, a short, stocky gnome with beefed muscles. "You've been summoned to the premises."
"Detainment in the Council building," sighed Foaly. "Lovely. I am positively buoyant. Say, they serve up warm face-towels for new detainees, don't they?"
The stocky gnome's partner, a pixie with barrel-sized fists, held out a slim pair of handcuffs with a scowl.
"Oh," went Foaly, attitude evaporating. "That kind of detainment."
Seeing as the Council building was located a couple of blocks away from Police Plaza, Foaly very soon found himself seated upon a flat metal bar in a bland white room with a two-way mirror.
That mirror is just overdoing it. What am I, a criminal?
Apparently not picking up your phone was a federal offense.
A white door that had seamlessly blended in with the walls was pushed open, allowing Cahartez, Rodent and the beefy gnome from before to enter. The door pinged dramatically behind them.
I designed that door, reflected Foaly in a moment's happiness. Temperature regulator, smart sound, machine learning algorithm to remember who enters and at what time.
The centaur straightened in his bench made for two-leggers, then thought twice and stood on all fours. "I have my explanation ready."
"This had better be good," said Rodent with a threatening air, taking his place on the bench opposite. Cahartez and the beefy gnome chose to stand.
"After the evacuation was carried out, the techies noticed a kind of portal in close proximity to Atlantis, which the Freaks had very likely come from. But portals are rare, and there was no saying how long it would stay open, so Commander Vinyayà decided there was no time to seek Council permission. Also, she said that this was a solo job and insisted on going alone."
Rodent's high eyebrow twitched. "And she had to be the one to do it, eh? The acting Commander has clearly underestimated the value of her position, and that is going to cost us dearly."
Foaly scowled. "In all due respect, Rodent, she played her role impressively well considering all the new strains of this situation. And she did not want to risk the lives of the few officers we have left."
"Their lives, by Frond!" thundered the outspoken Councilman. "They are positions that can be replaced, centaur. But the role of a leader during a mess such as this- it is not a small gap to fill."
"Rodent, please," Cahartez held up a hand. He addressed Foaly. "But we have filled that gap, on assumption that something was wrong, and you will have to work with the new acting Commander to the best of your abilities."
Something was amiss in the Chairman's words. "Of course I'll work with him. What's the catch?"
The beefy gnome chuckled, his first verbal input since the session began. Clapping Foaly heftily on the shoulder, he replied with a half-grin, "You'll figure that out soon enough, centaur."
Foaly entered the main LEP building to find it eerily lacking of activity or the constant crowds, and even the normally long lines of new convicts ended abnormally abruptly today. It all served as a painful reminder of the events of the past few days that had escalated from a mess to a disaser to a total catastrophe.
It's like the Freaks got to everyone.
And then:
Don't think that. NEVER think that.
But these dramatics had never before been so justified. Two of the LEP's most formidable leaders were gone, as were all the other leaders besides in one fell swoop. That was precisely the problem. No one left to lead but the Council, and whatever utterly inefficient replacements they had fixed.
Foaly halted in his tracks as a thought occurred to him.
Come now, you're just being ominous. We didn't lose everyone in the Atlantis mission. So where is everyone we didn't lose?
He walked past several deserted cubicles, bafflement growing with each step.
There's something terribly wrong.
Foaly rounded the empty corner that turned into the central meeting room. There were sounds coming from within. To the struggling rational part of his mind it sounded like talking.
Foaly barged into the room, only to be greeted with a flurry of heads turning in his direction looking surprised. The centaur regarded these faces before breathing a sigh of relief.
Someone at the head of the room, who was probably in charge of this huge gathering and the emptiness of the building, snapped his fingers for attention.
"As I was saying, officers, at this time of unforeseen chaos...is that Mr Foaly?"
Foaly figured in an instant that this must be the Council's Commander-elect.
"Reporting," he clarified, raising a hand.
"Would you care to explain to everyone in the room what became of the previous acting Commander?" asked the new one with accusing air.
Foaly's expression dropped into a scowl. He couldn't even see the guy, but he disliked him already.
"A mission went awry. A necessary mission."
"A mission that did not gain Council approval," snickered the newcomer. "You and Wing Commander Vinyayá are both at fault. Nobody but yourselves can be blamed that the mission was unsuccessful."
Foaly stamped a hoof in indignation, causing the crowd of officers nearest to him to jump aside. "So you're one of those types. Council suck-ups. Let's not blame the Wing Commander. She got us further than the Council did in this crisis."
Foaly actually heard this insolent nitwit click his tongue. "Ah yes, the banned drug. Was it her recommendation?"
He did not walk into the trap. Saying yes would testify Vinyayà's illegitimate drug usage rather than bolster her credibility. "It was mine, after we acquired one of the creatures. Purely scientific assumption."
"Regardless," the new Commander waved his hand dismissively, and at last Foaly caught a glimpse through the crowd. "We will discontinue the drug. It isn't helping our officers."
The centaur's jaw dropped open, down to the floor. "It makes us immune. It's our only defense."
"It is banned because it does more harm than good," Ark Sool pointed his trademark cane chidingly in Foaly's direction. "At it will stay banned because we don't want black markets booming with the LEP's money. We tackle this enemy like we've always done, with some good guns and good leadership."
The centaur was shaking his head rapidly even before this speech was done with. "No, no, no. The Freaks- Opal's Freaks- are a different kind of danger. You can't fight them any other way."
It was either centaur or gnome who'd jinxed the relative peace, because at that instant an emergency klaxon started blaring from some part of the building.
Sool was actually enjoying this. "Looks like we're about to find out."
Dawn.
It was a greater relief than words could express when their band of seven set out of the island on the rickety ferry service of before, but even as the peaks of the turquoise landmass bathed yellow in the morning light faded into the distance Holly could not shake off the feeling of the Freak's claws on her midriff and the gentle lure of Ethos, which rang in her ears like the song of sirens. She tried to distract herself with other things. The cool sea breeze, for instance, or the roll of the water under the thin planks of the vessel. Sensations she might never get to live again.
After this adventure it's back to Haven, and back to a desk job without surface missions. I'm going to miss even those tight lava tunnels.
Holly had experience before how Ethos could be crafty with its traps. All it needed to do now was take up the shape of this island with the bioluminescent seas, and her logical side would die out. She would yearn for Ethos, the pristine world above ground.
She shook this disturbing thought to focus on the people instead. There were only two unfamiliar passengers with them on the ferry and a crew of five including the driver. Mulch was wheedling something out of his thick beard hairs for a snack while chatting animatedly in a supreme effort to cheer Caleb up, because the boy had been in a depressed state ever since having to leave Sona in the care of some kindly villagers who promised to trace her parents. It would be better for the girl, they had all decided. The journey ahead was getting perilous already. Now Zone was watching the island, hawk-like, from the boat's rear railing. Root and Vinyayà sat side-by-side, discussing some matter or the other relating to business. Not that she was eavesdropping, but Holly couldn't help but notice the moments that passed between the two. It was infrequent and slight when it happened, but for someone who'd made a bet on the poll it was instantly visible.
"The officers would've made some interesting bets about it, I presume?"
Holly would've jumped if she wasn't by now accustomed to the Mud Man's scares. Artemis was seated relaxedly on the bench- plank, more like- beside her, eyes wandering over the horizon rather than the feature of Holly's own attention. Going on that safe route, she too looked out across at the dawn sky.
"Yeah. A lot of ingots going on about that."
Artemis cocked an eyebrow. "And you? What did you bet on?"
Holly fought back a grin, but it surfaced anyway. "Oh, just look at them, Fowl. I would be an idiot not to bet that they have a thing going on. I don't normallyparticipate in office bets, but this one guarantees a fortune. You wouldn't believe how many ingots Foaly's put in."
Artemis laughed. "Small wonder the Commander isn't overly fond of betting."
Holly snickered. "He has no idea, actually."
"Is that so? And the Wing Commander?"
"She's perceptive. Sharp. She's never said anything about it before, but then again nobody dares to bring it up in her presence."
"I would think not. She took down ten of Opal's Freaks."
A wave crested suddenly under the ferry, bumping the passengers momentarily off their seats. Holly caught ahold of herself, but Artemis nearly stumbled to the deck and Mulch did stumble to the deck, having been too engrossed in his beard-snacks in the second before.
This at last made Caleb laugh.
"Real funny, Mud Boy," grunted the dwarf, clambering to both feet. "Real funny."
The sea turned placid once again, reflecting the red streaks of the rising sun's sky. Root said something and the Wing Commander actually laughed. Spirits, it would seem, were high again with their group.
Mulch, back in his seat, raised an eyebrow at this uncommon behaviour.
"It's not my fall you're laughing about, is it, Julius?"
Root treated him to a scowl that often sent the strongest of LEP men cowering behind a larger guy. "Much as you are are comic relief, Diggums, it would do you well to shut up this whole ride."
"Why?" gasped Mulch in horror. "Getting in the way of your romances, am I?"
If Root had a gun he would've fired it. "Diggums..."
But he had no gun, and so the dwarf had here the opportunity of a lifetime. "Y'know, I always wondered why the LEP was so easy to escape. Remember the good ol' days when I was new to a life of crime, and you were new to the force and stuff? You used to tag me like a magnet. Except I was always smarter."
"There he goes," murmured Holly, an amused glint in her eye. "The chatter that's going to get him killed someday."
It seemed to be working, because Root was now in the mood for a shouting match.
"Oh, really, Diggums? Selling your stolen goods to undercover agents? Walking right into police search-zones? Forgive me if I'm not wooed by what a genius you are."
Mulch snorted offhandedly. "Little blips. Not as much as when your officers run past me within a hair's breadth during these so-called searches. The only stench you've ever been following is the sewers."
Root crossed his arms scornfully. "Oh, but that can be excused, seeing as you smell so much like those sewers yourself."
"Exactly," bowed Mulch courteously. "I am a master of deception."
"It's your natural stink, Diggums!"
Holly directed her gaze back at the sky to prevent an embarrassing outburst of laughter. Artemis joined her again in looking upwards, where the clouds had bled vermillion and giant gulls now cawed in circles.
"I'm going to miss this," blurted the elf, forgetting to consider what smart remark the human would put forth in response. "Even the danger. It's no fun at all in the LEP anymore, not for me."
Surprisingly, Artemis didn't have a sarky comeback for that. Instead she heard him shift slightly and clarify, "Fewer surface missions?"
Holly closed her eyes, hoping to not let any emotion come out with her voice. "Very few. It might be another...oh, I don't know, ten years before the next one comes along. Ritual visits are too short to count."
There was silence for a while, except for the boat's talking/quarrelling occupants which now encompassed Caleb, Zone and Vinyayà. Artemis shifted again, uncomfortably it seemed, and coughed into a fist.
"I cannot possibly fathom how you feel, Holly, but if it's any help, you're welcome to Fowl Manor anytime you like. Prolong your ritual visits."
This offer was so surprising that Holly snapped away from the sky and looked at him.
"Is that Artemis Fowl I hear talking? What's happened to you?"
The Mud Man acknowledged her incredulity with a shrug. "I am a changed individual, Holly. You know about my environmental projects. I don't always do it for the fortune. I would reap a fortune in a million other ways if I didn't care about the planet."
Holly for a moment remembered how she had felt the first time she'd heard, via Foaly, about Fowl's rainforest conservation budget, a whopping amount even in the young millionare's standads. Amazed. Suddenly willing to forgive and forget the human's past misdeeds.
"Know something, Fowl?" She treated him to a frank look. "Back then, six years ago, when Foaly was wiring up his mind-wipe machine, I told him that maybe it was the wrong thing to do. That you'd go back to being that monster who was willing to exploit a species for profit. But you didn't really need our influence to become a better person, did you?"
"I'm not a better person, Holly," Artemis looked directly at her as he said it. "A changed individual, with different priorities, but by no means a better person. Have I entirely surrendered my criminal ways? No. And I don't belive I ever will, either. The only thing that has changed is my objective. My intentions, for the most part, and my deeds, all of them, remain the same."
The elf did not break his gaze, strangely not experiencing ice creeping up her spine at his tone of voice. "And are you proud of keeping that constant, Fowl?"
Artemis's demeanor did not shake. "Most of the time. If for the People's influence, perhaps, it would be all the time."
Each held the other's stare a while longer, until at last Holly broke off with a puff of breath, crossing her legs on the bench and inquiring testily, "Criminal activities for the greater good, right?"
"Mostly," replied Fowl, and he almost couldn't hide a grin.
A/N; Enjoyed the break from action? Don't worry, no more big breaks in this story! *gleeful rubbing of hands*
Coming up next; There are worse things out there than Freaks- and the easy part of the mission is done with.