The Arctic Incident

“Don’t ask,” croaked Captain Short. Even through her helmet filters, the smell was foul.

The contents of the column had had a century to ferment, and smelled as toxic as the day they went in. Probably worse. At least, thought the bodyguard, I don’t have to eat this stuff.

Root was in the lead, his helmet lights cutting swathes through the darkness. The pillar was on a forty-degree angle with regular grooves that were intended to anchor the titanium block filling.

Mulch had done a sterling job of breaking down the pipe’s contents. But the recycling had to go somewhere. Mulch, in fairness to him, chewed every mouthful thoroughly to avoid too many lumps.

The raiding party struggled on grimly, trying not to think about what they were actually doing. By the time they caught up with the dwarf, he was clinging to a ridge, face constricted in pain.

“What is it, Mulch?” asked Root, concern accidentally slipping into his tones.

“Geddup,” Mulch groaned. “Geddup rih now.”

Root’s eyes widened with something approaching panic.

“Up!” he hissed. “Everybody up!”

They scrambled into the tight wedge of space above the dwarf. Not a second too soon. Mulch relaxed, releasing a burst of dwarf gas that could have inflated a circus tent. He rehinged his jaw.

“That’s better,” he sighed. “Lotta air in that soil. Now would you mind getting that beam out of my face. You know how I feel about light.”

The commander obliged, switching to infrared.

“Okay, now we’re up here. How do we get out? You didn’t bring your cutter, I seem to remember.”

The dwarf grinned. “No problem. A good thief always plans on a return visit. See here.”

Mulch was pointing to a patch of titanium that seemed exactly like the rest of the pipe. “I patched this up last time. It’s just flexi-bond.”

Root had to smile. “You are a cunning reprobate. How did we ever catch you?”

“Luck,” replied the dwarf, elbowing a section of the pipe. A large circle popped out, revealing the hundred-year-old hole. “Welcome to Koboi Labs.”

They clambered into a dimly lit corridor. Loaded hover trolleys were stacked four deep around the walls. Strip lighting operated at minimum illumination overhead.

“I know this place,” noted Root. “I’ve been here before on inspection for the special weapons permits. We’re two corridors across from the computer center. We have a real chance of making it.”

“What about these DNA stun cannons?” inquired Butler.

“Tricky,” admitted the commander. “If the cannon’s onboard computer doesn’t recognize you, you’re dead. They can be programmed to reject entire species.”

“Tricky,” agreed the manservant.

“I’m betting they’re not active,” continued Root. “First, if this place is crawling with goblins, they hardly came in through the front door. And second, if Foaly is being blamed for this little uprising, Koboi will want to pretend they had no weapons, just like the LEP.”

“Strategy?” asked Butler.

“Not much,” admitted the commander. “Once we turn the corner, we’re on camera. So down the corridor as fast as you can, hit anything that gets in your way. If it has a weapon, confiscate it. Mulch, you stay here and widen the tunnel, we may need to get out fast. Ready?”

Holly extended a hand.

“Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.”

The commander and manservant laid their hands on hers.

“Likewise.”

They headed down the corridor. Two hundred goblins versus our virtually unarmed three heroes. It was going to be close.





Koboi Labs, Inner Sanctum


“Intruders,” squealed Opal Koboi delightedly. “Inside the building.”

Cudgeon crossed to the surveillance plasma screen.

“I do believe it’s Julius. Amazing. Obviously your hit team leader was exaggerating, General Sputa.”

Sputa licked his eyeballs furiously. Lieutenant Nyal would be losing his skin before shedding season.

Cudgeon whispered into Opal’s ear.

“Can we activate the DNA cannons?”

The pixie shook her head. “Not immediately. They’ve been reprogrammed to reject goblin DNA. It would take a few minutes.”

Cudgeon turned to the four goblin generals. “Have an armored squad come up behind, and another one from the flank. We can trap them at the door. There will be no way out.”

Cudgeon stared raptly at the plasma screen. “This is even better than I’d planned. Now, my old friend, Julius— it’s my turn to humiliate you.”

Artemis was meditating. This was a time for concentration. He sat cross-legged on a rock, visualizing the various rescue strategies that could be used when they returned to the Arctic. If the Mafiya managed to set up the drop before Artemis could reach them, then there was only one plan that could work. And it was a high-risk plan. Artemis searched deeper inside his brain. There must be another way.