The Arctic Incident

Mulch grinned. “Simple, I activated the alarm, then left in the LEP uniform I came in.”


Artemis scowled. “No, there must be another way. There has to be.”

The DNA cannons were obviously out of commission. Root was just starting to feel optimistic when he heard the thunder of approaching boots.

“D’Arvit. You two keep going. I’ll hold them here as long as I can.”

“No, Commander,” said Butler. “With respect, we only have one weapon, and I can hit a lot more with it than you.

I’ll take them coming around the corner. You try to get the door open.”

Holly opened her mouth to argue. But who was going to argue with a man that size?

“Okay. Good luck. If you’re wounded, lie as still as you can until I get back. Four minutes, remember.”

Butler nodded. “I remember.”

“And, Butler?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“That little misunderstanding last year. When you and Artemis kidnapped me.”

Butler gazed at the ceiling. He would have stared at his shoes, but Holly was in the way.

“Yes, that. I’ve been meaning to talk to . . .”

“Just forget it. After this, all square.”

“Holly, move it out,” ordered Root. “Butler, don’t let them get too close.”

Butler wrapped his fingers around the gun’s molded grip. He looked like an armed bear.

“They better not. For their sake.”

Artemis climbed up on a hover trolley, tapping one of the overhead conduits that ran the length of the corridor.

“This pipe appears to run along the entire ceiling struc-ture. What is it, a ventilation system?”

Mulch snorted. “I wish. It’s the plasma supply for the DNA cannons.”

“So why didn’t you come in this way?”

“Oh, a little matter of there being enough charge in every drop of plasma to fry a troll.”

Artemis placed his palm against the metal.

“What if the cannons weren’t operational?”

“Once the cannons are deactivated, the plasma is just so much radioactive slop.”

“Radioactive?”

Mulch tugged at his beard thoughtfully. “Actually, Julius reckons the cannons have been turned off.”

“Any way to be certain?”

“We could open this unopenable panel.” Mulch ran his fingers along the curved surface. “Ahh, see here. A micro keyhole. To service the cannons. Even plasma needs recharging.”

He pointed to a tiny hole in the metal, which could have been a speck of dirt, it was so small.

“Now, observe a master at work.”

The dwarf fed one of his chin hairs into the hole. When the tip reappeared, Mulch plucked the hair out by the root. The hair died as soon as Mulch plucked it, stiffening in rigor mortis, and retaining the precise shape of the lock’s interior.

Mulch held his breath, twisting the makeshift key. The hatch dropped open.

“That, my boy, is talent.”

Inside the pipe, an orange jelly pulsed gently. Occasional sparks roiled in its depths. The plasma was too dense even to spill from the hatch, and retained its cylindrical shape.

Mulch squinted through the wobbling gel.

“Deactivated, all right. If that stuff was live, our faces would be getting a nice tan about now.”

“What about those sparks?”

“Residual charge. They’d give you a bit of a tingle, but nothing serious.”

Artemis nodded.“Right,”he said, strapping on the helmet.

Mulch blanched. “You are not serious, Mud Whelp? Do you have any idea what will happen if those cannons are activated?”

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

“It’s probably just as well.” The dwarf shook his head bewildered. “Okay. You’ve got thirty yards to go, and no more than ten minutes of air in that helmet. Keep the filters closed, the air may get a bit stale after a while but it’s better than sucking plasma. And here, take this.”He plucked the stiffened hair from the keyhole.

“What for?”

“I presume you will want to get out again at the other end. Or hadn’t you thought of that, Genius Boy?”

Artemis swallowed. He hadn’t. There was more to this heroism thing than rushing in blindly.

“Just feed it in gently, remember it’s hair, not metal.”

“Feed it in gently. Got it.”

“And don’t use any lights. Halogen could reactivate the plasma.”

Artemis felt his head beginning to spin.

“And make sure you get foamed as soon as you can. The antirad canisters are blue. They’re everywhere in this facility.”

“Blue canisters. Anything else, Mister Diggums?”

“Well, there are the plasma snakes. . . .”

Artemis’s knees almost collapsed. “You’re not serious?”

“No,” Mulch conceded. “I’m not. Now, your reach is about one and a half feet. So calculate for sixty pulls and then get out of there.”

“Slightly under one and a half feet I’d say. Perhaps sixty-three pulls.” He placed the dwarf hair inside his breast pocket.