by Eoin Colfer
The projection’s liquid outer core swirled and bubbled with molten magma.
“However, mankind has never managed to penetrate more than nine miles through the crust. To go any deeper would necessitate the use of nuclear warheads, or huge amounts of dynamite. An explosion of this magnitude could possibly generate huge shifts in the earth’s tectonic plates, causing earthquakes and tidal waves around the globe.”
Mulch was, as usual, eating something. Nobody knew what, as he had emptied the food locker over an hour since. Nobody really wanted to ask either. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“No, it isn’t,” agreed Artemis. “Which is why the ironclad probe theory has never been put into practice, until now. The original idea belongs to a New Zealander, Professor David Stevenson. It is quite brilliant, actually, if impractical. Encase a reinforced probe in a hundred million tons of molten iron. The iron will sink through the crack generated by the explosive, even closing the crack behind it. Within a week the probe will reach the core. The iron will be consumed by the outer core, and the probe will gradually disintegrate. The entire process is even environmentally sound.”
The projection put Artemis’s words into pictures.
“How come the iron doesn’t un-melt?” asked Mulch.
Artemis raised a long thin eyebrow. “Un-melt? The orebody’s sheer size stops it from solidifying.”
Holly stood, stepping into the projection itself and studying the orebody. “Foaly must know all about this. Humans couldn’t keep something so big a secret.”
“Indeed,” said Artemis, opening a second holographic projection. “I ran a search on the onboard database and found this: Foaly ran several computer simulations over eighty years ago. He concluded that the best way to deal with the threat was to simply broadcast misinformation to whatever probe was being sent down. As far as the humans were concerned, their probe would simply sink through a couple hundred miles of various low-grade ore, and then the orebody would solidify. A resounding and very expensive failure.”
The computer simulation showed the information being broadcasted from Haven to the metal-encased probe. Aboveground, cartoon human scientists scratched their heads and tore up their notes.
“Most amusing,” said Artemis.
Butler was studying the hologram. “I’ve been on enough campaigns to know that there is a big hole in that strategy, Artemis,” he said.
“Yes?”
Butler struggled to his knees and traced the probe’s path with a finger. “Well, what if the probe’s journey brought it into contact with one of the People’s chutes? Once that metal punctures that chute, it’s on an express ride to Haven.”
Artemis was delighted at his bodyguard’s astuteness. “Yes. Of course. Which is why there is a supersonic attack shuttle on standby twenty-four hours a day, to divert the molten mass if the need arises. All human probe projects are monitored, and if any are judged to pose a threat, they are quietly sabotaged. If that doesn’t work, the LEP geological unit drills in under the molten mass and diverts it with some shaped charges. The orebody follows the new path blown for it, and Haven is safe. Of course, the mining shuttle has never been used.”
“There’s another problem,” added Holly. “We have to factor in Opal’s involvement. She obviously has helped Giovanni Zito drill through the crust, possibly with a fairy laser. We can presume she has upgraded the probe itself so that Foaly’s false signals will not be accepted. So her plan must be to bring that probe into contact with the People. But how?”
Artemis launched a third holographic animation, shutting down the first two. This 3-D rendering portrayed Zito’s Earth Farm and the underlying crust and mantle.
“This is what I think,” he said. “Zito, with Opal’s help, liquefies his orebody here. It begins to sink at a rate of sixteen feet per second toward the earth’s core, taking accurate readings, thanks to Koboi’s upgrades. Meanwhile, Foaly thinks his plan is working perfectly. Now, at a depth of one hundred and six miles, the metal mass comes within three miles of this major chute, E7, which emerges in southern Italy. They run parallel for one hundred and eighty-six miles, then diverge again. If Opal were to blow a crack between these two tunnels, the iron would follow the path of least resistance and flow into the chute.”
Holly felt the strength leave her limbs. “Into the chute, and straight down to Haven.”
“Exactly,” said Artemis. “This particular chute runs in a jagged westerly diagonal for twelve hundred miles, coming within five hundred yards of the city itself. With the speed the orebody will build up in free fall, it will slice off a good half of the city. Everything that’s left will be broadcasting signals for the world to hear.”
“But we have blast walls,” objected Holly.
Artemis shrugged. “Holly, there isn’t a force on earth powerful enough to stop a hundred million tons of molten hematite in free fall. Anything that gets in the way will be obliterated. Most of the iron will curve around and follow the tunnel, but enough will continue straight down to cut right through the blast walls.”
The shuttle’s occupants watched Artemis’s computer simulation in which the molten orebody smashed through Haven City’s defenses, allowing all the fairy electronic signals to be picked up by the probe.
“We are looking at a fifty-eight percent casualty rate,” said Artemis. “Possibly more.”
“How can Opal do this without Foaly’s sensors picking her up?”
“Simple,” replied Artemis. “She merely plants a shaped charge in E7 at a depth of one hundred and five miles, detonating it at the last minute. That way, by the time Foaly detects the explosion, it will be too late to either disarm it or do anything about it.”
“So we need to remove that charge.”
Artemis smiled. If only it were that simple. “Opal will not take any chances with the charge. If she left it on the chute wall for any amount of time, a tremor could shake it free, or one of Foaly’s sensors could pick it up. I’m sure the device is well shielded, but one leak in the plating could have it broadcasting like a satellite. No, Opal will not position the charge until the last minute.”
Holly nodded. “Okay. So we wait until she plants it, then we disarm it.”
“No. If we wait in the chute, then Foaly will pick us up. If that happens, Opal will not even venture down the chute.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Not really. We may delay her for a few hours, but remember, Opal has a two-hundred-mile window to plant the charge. She can wait for the LEP to arrest us and still have ample time to complete her mission.”
Holly knuckled her eyes. “I don’t understand this. Surely everyone must know by now that Opal has escaped. Surely Foaly can put this all together.”
Artemis closed his fist. “There’s the rub. That single point is the essence of this entire situation. Foaly obviously doesn’t know that Opal has escaped. She would be the first person checked after the goblin general’s escape.”
“She was checked. I was there. When Scalene escaped, Opal was still catatonic. There’s no way she could have planned it.”
“And yet, she did,” mused Artemis. “Could that Opal have been a double?”
“Not possible. They run DNA checks every day.”
“So the Opal under surveillance had Koboi’s DNA, but little or no brain activity.”
“Exactly. She’s been that way for a year.”
Artemis thought silently for over a minute. “I wonder how far cloning technology has developed underground?”
He crossed briskly to the main computer terminal and called up LEP files on the subject.
“‘The mature clone is identical to the original in every way, except that its brain functions are limited to life support,’” he read. “‘In greenhouse conditions, it takes one to two years to grow a clone to adulthood.’” Artemis stepped away from the computer, clapping his hands. “That’s it. That’s how she did it. She induced that coma so that her replacement would not be n
oticed. This is impressive stuff.”
Holly pounded a fist into her palm. “So even if we did survive the attempts on our lives, all talk of Opal’s escape would be seen as the ravings of the guilty.”
“I told Chix Verbil that Opal was back,” said Mulch. “That’s okay though, because he already thinks I’m raving.”
“With Opal on the loose,” continued the Irish youth, “the entire LEP would be on the lookout for a plot of some kind. But with Opal still deep in her coma…”
“There is no cause for alarm. And this probe is simply a surprise, and not an emergency.”
Artemis shut down the holographic projection. “So we’re on our own. We need to steal that final charge and detonate harmlessly above the parallel stretch. Not only that, but we need to expose Opal so she cannot simply put her plan into action all over again. Obviously to do this we need to find Opal’s shuttle.”
Mulch was suddenly uncomfortable. “You’re going after Koboi? Again? Well, best of luck. You can just drop me off at the next corner.”
Holly ignored him. “How long do we have?”
There was a calculator on the plasma screen, but Artemis didn’t need it. “The orebody is sinking at a rate of sixteen feet per second. That’s eleven miles per hour. At that speed it would take approximately nine and a half hours to reach the parallel stretch.”
“Nine hours from now?”
“No,” corrected Artemis. “From detonation, which was almost two hours ago.”
Holly walked rapidly into the cockpit and strapped herself into the pilot’s chair. “Seven and a half hours to save the world. Isn’t there some law that says we get at least twenty-four?”
Artemis strapped himself into the copilot’s chair. “I don’t think Opal bothers with laws,” he said. “Now, can you talk while you fly? There are a few things I need to know about shuttles and charges.”
Police Plaza, Haven City, the Lower Elements
Everybody in Police Plaza was all talk about the Zito probe. In truth it was a bit of a distraction from recent events. The LEP didn’t lose many officers in the field. And now two in the same shift. Foaly was taking it hard, especially the loss of Holly Short. It was one thing to lose a friend in the line of duty, but for that friend to be falsely accused of murder was unbearable. Foaly could not stand the idea that the People would forever remember Holly as a cold-blooded killer. Captain Short was innocent. What’s more, she was a decorated hero, and deserved to be remembered as such.
A com screen flickered into life on his wall. One of his technical assistants in the outer office appeared. The elf’s pointed ears were quivering with excitement.
“The probe is down to sixty-five miles. I can’t believe the humans have gotten this far.”
Foaly opened a screen on his wall. He couldn’t believe it either. In theory, it should have been decades before humans developed a laser sophisticated enough to puncture the crust without frying half a continent. Obviously, Giovanni Zito went right ahead and developed the laser without worrying about Foaly’s projections for his species.
Foaly almost regretted having to shut Zito’s project down. The Sicilian was one of the brightest hopes for the human race. His plan to harness the power of the outer core was a good one, but the cost was fairy exposure, and that was too high a price to pay.
“Keep a close eye on it,” he said, trying to sound interested. “Especially when it runs parallel to E7. I don’t anticipate any trouble, but eyes peeled just in case.”
“Yes, sir. Oh, and we have Captain Verbil on line two, from the surface.”
A tiny spark of interest lit the centaur’s eyes. Verbil? The sprite had allowed Mulch Diggums to steal an LEP shuttle. Mulch escaped a few hours after his friends on the force had been killed. Coincidence? Perhaps. Perhaps not.
Foaly opened a window to the surface. In it he could see Verbil’s chest.
Foaly sighed. “Chix! You’re hovering. Come down where I can see you.”
“Sorry,” said Chix, alighting on the floor. “I’m a bit emotional. Trouble Kelp gave me a real grilling.”
“What do you want, Chix? A hug and a kiss? I have things on my mind here.”
Verbil’s wings flared up behind him. It was a real effort to stay on the ground. “I have a message for you, from Mulch Diggums.”
Foaly fought the urge to whinny. No doubt Mulch would have some choice words for him.
“Go on, then. Tell me what our foul-mouthed friend thinks of me.”
“This is between us, right? I don’t want to be pensioned off on the grounds that I’m unstable.”
“Yes, Chix, it’s between us. Everyone has a right to be temporarily unstable. Today of all days.”
“It’s ridiculous, really. I don’t believe it for a minute.” Chix attempted a confident chuckle.
Foaly snapped. “What’s ridiculous? What don’t you believe? Tell me, Chix, or I’ll reach down this com link and drag it out of you.”
“Are we secure?”
“Yes!” the centaur screeched. “We’re secure. Tell me. Give me Mulch’s message.”
Chix took a deep breath, saying the words as he let it out. “Opal Koboi is back.”
Foaly’s laughter started somewhere around his hooves and grew in volume and intensity until it burst out of his mouth. “Opal is back! Koboi is back! I get it now. Mulch conned you into letting him steal the shuttle. He played on your fear of Opal waking up, and you bought it. Opal is back; don’t make me laugh.”
“That’s what he said,” Chix mumbled sulkily. “There’s no need to laugh so hard. You’re spitting on the screen. I have feelings, you know.”
Foaly’s laughter petered out. It wasn’t real laughter anyway, it was just an outburst of emotion. Mostly sadness, with some frustration mixed in.
“Okay, Chix. It’s not your fault. Mulch has fooled smarter sprites than you.”
It took Chix a moment to realize that he was being insulted.
“It could be true,” he said, miffed. “You could be wrong. It is possible, you know. Maybe Opal Koboi conned you.”
Foaly opened another window on his wall. “No, Verbil, it is not possible. Opal could not be back, because I’m looking at her right now.”
Live feed from the Argon Clinic confirmed that Opal was indeed still suspended in her coma harness. She’d had her DNA swab minutes beforehand.
Chix’s petulance crumbled. “I can’t believe it,” he muttered. “Mulch seemed so sincere. I actually thought Holly was in danger.”
Foaly’s tail twitched. “What? Mulch said Holly was in danger? But Holly is gone. She died.”
“Yes,” said Chix morosely. “Mulch was shoveling more horse dung, I suppose. No offense.”
Of course. Opal would set Holly up to take the blame for Julius. That little cruel touch would be just like Opal. If she wasn’t right there, in her harness. DNA never lies.
Chix rapped the screen surround at his end, to get Foaly’s attention. “Listen, Foaly, remember what you promised. This is between us. No need for anyone else to know I got duped by a dwarf. I’ll end up scraping vole curry off the sidewalk after crunchball matches.”
Foaly absently shut the window. “Yes, whatever. Between us. Right.”
Opal was still secure. No doubt about it. Surely she couldn’t have escaped. If she had, then maybe this probe was more sinister than it seemed. She couldn’t have escaped. It wasn’t possible.
But Foaly’s paranoid streak couldn’t let it go. Just to be sure, there were a few little tests he could perform. He really should get authorization, but if he was wrong, nobody had to know. And if he was right, nobody would care about a few hours of computer time.
The centaur ran a quick search on the surveillance database and selected the footage from the chute access tunnel where Julius had died. There was something he wanted to check.
Uncharted Chute, Three Miles Below Southern Italy
The stolen shuttle made good time to the surface. Holly flew as fast as she could
without burning the gearbox or smashing them into a chute wall. Time may have been of the essence, but the motley crew would be of little use to anyone if they had to be scraped off the wall like so much crunchy pâté.
“These old rigs are mainly for watch changes,” explained Holly. “The LEP got this one secondhand at a criminal assets auction. It’s souped up to avoid customs ships. It used to belong to a curry smuggler.”
Artemis sniffed. A faint yellow odor still lingered in the cockpit. “Why would anyone smuggle curry?”
“Extra-hot curry is illegal in Haven. Living underground, we have to be careful of emissions, if you catch my drift.”
Artemis caught her drift and decided not to pursue the subject.
“We need to locate Opal’s shuttle before we venture aboveground and give our position away.”
Holly pulled over next to a small lake of black oil, the shuttle’s downdraft rippling the surface.
“Artemis, I think I mentioned that it’s a stealth shuttle. Nothing can detect her. We don’t have sensors sophisticated enough to spot her. Opal and her pixie sidekicks could be sitting in their craft just around the next bend, and our computers wouldn’t pick them up.”
Artemis leaned in over the dashboard readouts. “You’re approaching this the wrong way, Holly. We need to find out where the shuttle is not.”
Artemis launched various scans, searching for traces of certain gases within a hundred-mile radius. “I think we can assume that the stealth shuttle is very close to E7, perhaps right at the mouth; but that still leaves us with a lot of ground to cover, especially if our eyes are all we have to rely on.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying. But do go on; I’m sure you have a point.”
“So I’m using this shuttle’s limited sensor dishes to scan from here right up the chute to the surface and down about thirty miles.”
“Scanning for what?” said Holly in exasperation. “A hole in the air?”
Artemis grinned. “Exactly. You see, normal space is made up of various gases: oxygen, hydrogen, and so on, but the stealth shuttle would prevent any of these from being detected inside the ship’s hull. So if we find a small patch of space without the usual ambient gasses…”
