The Arctic Incident

“Goblins,” grunted Root, pulling a Farshoot neutrino rifle into his shoulder. “Too stupid to live. All they had to do was pick us off.”


Butler picked a spot, spreading his legs for steadiness.

“Do we wait until we see the whites of their eyes, Commander?”

“Goblin eyes don’t have whites,” responded Root. “But even so, holster your weapon. Captain Short and I will stun them. No need for anyone to die.”

Butler slid the Sig Sauer into its pouch beneath his arm. It was next to useless at that range, anyway. It would be interesting to see how Holly and Root handled themselves in a firefight. After all, Artemis’s life was pretty much in their hands. Not to mention his own.

Butler glanced sideways. Holly and the Commander were pumping the triggers of various weapons. Without any result. Their weapons were as dead as mice in a snake pit.

“I don’t understand it,” muttered Root. “I checked these myself.”

Artemis, naturally, was first to figure it out. He shook the snow from his hair.

“Sabotage,” he proclaimed tossing aside the useless fairy handgun. “There is no other alternative. This is why the B’wa Kell need softnose weapons, because they have somehow disrupted fairy lasers.”

But the commander was not listening, and neither was Butler. This was no time for clever deductions, this was a time for action. They were sitting ducks out here. Dark against the pale Arctic glow. This theory was confirmed when several softnose laser bursts bored hissing holes in the snow at their feet.

Holly activated her helmet Optix, zooming in on the enemy.

“It looks like one of them has a softnose laser, sir. Something with a long barrel.”

“We need cover. Fast!”

Butler nodded. “Look. An overhang. Under the ridge.”

The manservant grabbed his charge by the collar, hoisting him aloft as easily as a child would lift a kitten. They struggled through the snow to the shelter of the overhang. Maybe a million years ago the ice had melted sufficiently for a layer of ice to slump slightly, then freeze up again. The resulting wrinkle had somehow lasted through the ages and now could possibly save their lives.

They dived underneath the lip, wriggling backward against wall of ice. The icy canopy was easily thick enough to withstand gunfire from any conventional weapon.

Butler shielded Artemis with his body, risking an upward glance.

“Too far. I can’t make them out. Holly?”

Captain Short poked her head from under the frozen ledge, her Optix zoomed into focus.

“Well, what are they up to?”

Holly waited a beat, until the figures sharpened.

“Funny thing,” she commented. “They’re all firing now, but ...”

“But what, Captain?”

Holly tapped her helmet to make sure the lenses were working.

“Maybe I’m getting some Optix distortion, sir, but it looks like they’re missing on purpose, shooting way over our heads.”

Butler felt the blood pounding in his brain.

“It’s a trap!” he roared, reaching behind him to grab Artemis. “Everybody out! Everybody out!”

And that was when the goblin charges sent fifty tons of rock, ice, and snow tumbling to earth.

They nearly made it. Of course nearly never won a bucket of squid at gnommish roulette. If it hadn’t been for Butler, not one of the group would have survived. Something happened to him. An inexplicable surge of strength, not unlike the energy bursts that allow mothers to lift fallen trees off their children. The manservant grabbed Artemis and Holly, spinning them forward like stones across a pond. It wasn’t a very dignified way to travel, but it certainly beat having your bones pulverized by falling ice.

For the second time in so many minutes, Artemis landed nose first in a snowdrift. Behind him Butler and Root were scrabbling from beneath the ledge, boots slipping on the icy surface. The air was rent by avalanche thunder, and the packed ice beneath them heaved and split. Thick chunks of rock and ice speared the cave’s opening like bars. Butler and Root were trapped.

Holly was on her feet, racing toward her commander. But what could she do? She threw herself back underneath the ledge.

“Stay back, Captain,” said Root’s voice in her ear. “That’s an order!”

“Commander,” Holly breathed. “You’re alive.”

“Somehow,” came the reply. “Butler is unconscious and we’re pinned down. The ledge is on the point of collaps-ing. The only thing holding it is the debris. If we brush that aside to get out . ..”

They were alive, then, at least. Trapped but alive. A plan, they needed a plan. Holly found herself strangely calm. This was one of the qualities that made her such an excellent field agent. In times of excessive stress, Captain Short had the ability to seize upon a course of action. Often the only viable course. In the combat simulation for her captain’s exam, Holly had defeated insurmountable virtual enemies by blasting the projector. Technically she had defeated all her enemies, so the panel had to pass her.

Holly spoke into her helmet mike.