OPERATIONS' BOOTH

FOALY was thinking. Always thinking. His mind popped off ideas like corn in a microwave. But he couldn't do anything with them. He couldn't even call up Julius and pester him with his hair-brained schemes. Fowl's laptop seemed to be the centaur's only weapon. It was like trying to fight a troll with a toothpick.

Not that the human computer was without some merit, in an ancient-history kind of a way. The e-mail had already proved useful. Provided there was anybody alive to answer it. There was also a small camera mounted on the lid, for video-conferencing. Something the Mud People had only come up with recently. Until then, humans had communicated purely through text or sound waves. Foaly tutted, barbarians. But this camera was pretty high quality, with several filter options. If the centaur didn't know better, he'd swear someone had been leaking fairy technology.

Foaly swivelled the laptop with his hoof, pointing the camera towards the screens on the wall. Come on, Cudgeon, he thought. Smile for the birdie.

He didn't have long to wait. Within minutes, a com screen flickered into life and Cudgeon appeared, waving a white flag.

'Nice touch,' commented Foaly sarcastically.

'I thought so,' said the elf, waving the pennant theatrically. 'I'm going to need this later.'

Cudgeon pressed a button on the remote control. 'Why don't I show you what's going on outside?'

The windows cleared to reveal several squads of technicians feverishly trying to break the booth's defences. Most were aiming computer sensors at the booth's various interfaces, but some were doing it the old-fashioned way. Whacking the sensors with big hammers. None were having any luck.

Foaly swallowed. He was a rat in a trap. 'Why don't you fill me in on your plan, Briar? Isn't that what the power-crazed villain usually does?'

Cudgeon settled back into his swivel chair. 'Certainly, Foaly. Because this isn't one of your precious human movies. There will be no hero rushing in at the last moment. Short and Root are already dead. As are their human partners. No reprieve, no rescue. Just certain death.'

Foaly knew he should be feeling sadness, but hatred was all he could find.

'Just when things are at their most desperate, I shall instruct Opal to return weapons control to the LEP. The B'wa Kell will be rendered unconscious, and you will be blamed for the entire affair, provided you survive, which I doubt.'

'When the B'wa Kell recover, they will name you.'

Cudgeon wagged a finger. 'Only a handful know I am involved, and I shall take care of them personally. They have already been summoned to Koboi Labs. I shall join them shortly. The DNA cannons are being calibrated to reject goblin strands. When the time comes I shall activate them, and the entire squadron will be out for the count.'

'And then Opal Koboi becomes your empress, I suppose?'

'Of course,' said Cudgeon aloud. But then he manipulated the remote's keyboard, making certain they were on a secure channel.

'Empress?' he breathed. 'Really, Foaly. Do you think I'd go to all this trouble to share power? Oh no. As soon as this charade is over Miss Koboi will have a tragic accident. Perhaps several tragic accidents.'

Foaly bristled. 'At the risk of sounding cliched, Briar, you'll never get away with this.'

Cudgeon's finger hovered over the terminate button. 'Well if I don't,' he said pleasantly, 'you won't be alive to gloat this time.' And he was gone, leaving the centaur to sweat it out in the booth. Or so Cudgeon thought.

Foaly reached below the desk to the laptop. 'And cut,' he murmured, pausing the camera. 'Take five, people, that's a wrap.'

CHUTE EII6

Holly clamped the shuttle to the wall of a disused chute.

'We got about thirty minutes. Internal sensors say there's a flare coming up here in half an hour, and no shuttle is built to withstand that kind of heat.'

They gathered in the pressurized lounge to put together a plan.

'We need to break into Koboi Labs and regain control of the LEP weaponry,' said the commander.

Mulch was out of his chair and heading for the door. 'No way, Julius. That place has been upgraded since I was there. I heard they've got DNA-coded cannons.'

Root grabbed the dwarf by the scruff of his neck. 'One, don't call me Julius. And two, you're acting like you have a choice, convict.'

Mulch glared at him. 'I do have a choice, Julius. I can just serve out my sentence in a nice little cell. Putting me in the line of fire is a violation of my civil rights.'

Root's facial tones alternated from pastel pink to turnip purple. 'Civil rights!' he spluttered. 'You're talking to me about civil rights! Isn't that just typical?'

Then, strangely, he calmed down. In fact, he seemed almost happy. Those who were close to the commander knew that when he was happy, somebody else was about to be extremely sad.

'What?' asked Mulch suspiciously.

Root lit one of his noxious fungus cigars. 'Oh, nothing. Just that you're right, that's all.'

The dwarf squinted. 'I'm right? You're saying, in front of witnesses, that I'm right.'

'Certainly you are. Putting you in the line of fire would violate every right in the book. So, instead of cutting you the fantastic deal that I was about to offer, I'm going to add a couple of centuries to your sentence and throw you in maximum security.' Root paused, blowing a cloud of smoke at Mulch's face. 'In Howler's Peak.'

Mulch paled beneath the mud caking his cheeks. 'Howler's Peak? But that's a ...'

'A goblin prison,' completed the commander. 'I know. But for an obvious escape risk such as yourself, I don't think I'd have any trouble convincing the board to make an exception.'

Mulch dropped into the padded gyro chair. This wasn't good. The last time he'd been in a cell with goblins, it hadn't been any fun. And that had been in Police Plaza. He wouldn't last a week in general population.

'So what was this deal?'

Artemis smiled, fascinated: Commander Root was smarter than he looked. Then again, it would be almost impossible not to be.

'Oh, now you're interested?'

'I might be. No promises, mind.'

'OK, here it is. One-time offer. Don't even bother bargaining. You get us into Koboi Labs and I give you a two-day head start when this is over.'

Mulch swallowed. That was a good offer. They must be in a whole lot of trouble.

POLICE PLAZA

Things were hotting up at Police Plaza. The monsters were at the door. Literally. Captain Kelp was running between stations, trying to reassure his men.

'Don't worry, people, they can't get through those doors with Softnoses. Nothing less than some kind of missile —'

At that moment, a tremendous force buckled the main doors, like a child blowing up a paper bag. They held. Barely.

Cudgeon came rushing out of the tactical room, his commander's acorns glinting on his breast. With his reinstatement by the Council, he had made history by becoming the only commander in the LEP to have been appointed twice.

'What was that?'

Trouble brought up a front view on the monitors. A goblin stood with a large tube on his shoulder.

'Bazooka of some kind. I think it's one of the old wide-bore Softnose cannons.'

Cudgeon smacked his own forehead. 'Don't tell me. They were all supposed to have been destroyed. A curse on that centaur! How did he manage to sneak all that hardware out from under my nose?'

'Don't be too hard on yourself,' said Trouble. 'He fooled all of us.'

'How much more of that can we stand?'

Trouble shrugged. 'Not much. A couple more hits. Maybe they only had one missile.'

Famous last words. The doorway shook a second time; large chunks of masonry tumbled from the marble pillars.

Trouble picked himself off the ground, magic zipping a gash on his forehead. 'Paramedics, check for casualties. Have we got those weapons charged yet?'

Grub hobbled over, hampered by the weight of two electric rifles. 'Ready to go, Captain. Thirty-two weapons. Twenty pulses each.'

'OK. Best marks-fairies only. Not one shot fired until I give the word.'

Grub nodded, his face grim and pale.

'Good, Corporal, now move it out.'

When his brother was out of earshot, Trouble spoke quietly to Commander Cudgeon. 'I don't know what to tell you, Commander. They blew the Atlantis tunnel, so there's no help coming from there. We can't get a pentagram around them to stop time. We're completely surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned. If the B'wa Kell breaches the blast doors, it will be over in seconds. We have to get into that Operations' booth. Any progres............