“A mountain of the stuff, Artemis. A mountain. I wouldn’t be talking to you at all if it wasn’t for the B’wa Kell thing. If this ever leaked out, I’d end up directing sewage-treatment subs in Atlantis.”
Mulch winked at the screen. “I probably shouldn’t have heard that.”
The commander ignored him. “You have thirty seconds, Artemis. Sell me.”
Artemis rose, standing directly before the screen. “Spiro has fairy technology. It is unlikely that he will be able to use it, but it will put his scientists onto ion technology. The man is a megalomaniac, with no respect for life or the environment. Who knows what ghastly machine he will construct from fairy technology. There is also the definite chance that his new technology will lead him to discover Haven itself, and if that happens, the life of every creature on the planet, and under it, is at risk.”
Root wheeled his chair off camera, reappearing in Foaly’s monitor. He leaned close to the centaur’s ear, whispering in low tones.
“It doesn’t look good,” said Holly. “I could be on the next shuttle home.”
Artemis drummed his fingers on the table. It was difficult to see how he could take on Spiro without fairy assistance. After several moments, the commander reappeared in his own screen.
“This is serious. We cannot afford to risk that this Spiro person will activate another probe. However small the possibility, there’s still a chance. I have to put together an insertion team. The works, a fully tooled-up Retrieval team.”
“A full team?” protested Holly. “In an urban area? Commander, you know what Retrieval are like. This could turn into a disaster. Let me take a crack at it.”
Root considered.“It will take forty-eight hours to clear an operation, so that’s what you have. I can cover for you for a couple of days. I can’t let you have Foaly. He’ll have enough to do putting this operation together. Diggums can help if he wants, it’s his choice. I might drop a couple of the burglary charges, but he’s still facing five to ten for the bullion robbery. That’s all I can do. If you fail, then the Retrieval team is waiting in the wings.”
Artemis thought about it. “Very well.”
Root took a breath. “There is a condition.”
“I thought as much,” said Artemis. “You want a mind wipe. Correct?”
“That’s right, Artemis. You are becoming a severe liability to the People. If we are to assist you in this matter, then you and your staff will have to submit to mind wipes.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then we go straight to plan B, and you get wiped anyway.”
“No offense, Commander, but this is a technical matter. . . .”
Foaly stepped in. “There are two kinds of mind wipe. A block wipe, which takes out everything in the chosen period—Holly can do that with the equipment in her bag. And a fine-tune wipe, which only deletes certain memories. This is a more specialized procedure, but there is less danger of a drop in IQ. We do a fine-tune wipe on all of you. I detonate a data charge in your computer system that automatically deletes any fairy-related files. Also, I will need your permission to do a sweep of your house just in case there is any fairy memorabilia lying around. In practical terms, you will wake up the day after this operation with absolutely no record or memory of the fairy People.”
“You’re talking about nearly two years of memories.”
“You won’t miss them. Your brain will invent some new ones to fill the gaps.”
It was a tough decision. On the one hand, his knowledge of the People was now a large part of Artemis’s psychological makeup. On the other, he could no longer ut people’s lives at risk.
“Very well,” said the teenager. “I accept your offer.”
Root tossed the cigar into a nearby incinerator. “Okay, then. We have a deal. Captain Short, keep a channel open at all times.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Holly.”
“Commander?”
“Be careful on this one. Your career won’t survive another blow.”
“Understood, sir,” said Holly.
“Oh, and Convict?”
Mulch sighed. “You mean me, I suppose, Julius?”
Root scowled. “It’s over, Mulch. You won’t escape again, so get your brain ready for cold food and hard walls.”
Mulch stood, presenting his back to the screen. Somehow the bum flap on his specially adapted tunneling trousers flopped open, presenting the commander with a lovely view of his rear end. In the dwarf world, presenting your behind was the ultimate insult, as it is in most cultures.
Commander Root terminated the link. After all, there was no comeback after an affront like that.
West of Wajir, Kenya
Loafers McGuire woke up with a debilitating headache. It was so painful that he felt obliged to come up with some imagery, in case he had to describe it later. His head felt, he decided, like there was an angry porcupine crawling around inside his cranium. Not bad, he thought. I should put that in the book.
Then he thought, What’s a book?