“Are you talking about all of her company’s weapons that are still in commission?” asked Holly.
“And the satellites,” added Trouble. “Every second vehicle in the city.”
“It is just a theory,” said Artemis. “There is yet another theory that suggests nothing at all will happen, other than one person dying. Physics trumps quantum physics, and things go on as normal.”
Holly found herself red-faced with sudden fury. “You’re talking as though Opal is already dead.”
Artemis was not sure what to say. “We are staring into the abyss, Holly. In a short time, many of us could be dead. I need to stay detached.”
Foaly looked up from his computer panel. “What do you think about the percentages, Mud Boy?”
“Percentages?”
“Theory-wise.”
“Oh, I see. How likely are the explosions?”
“Exactly.”
Artemis thought about it. “All things considered, I would say about ninety percent. If I were a betting man and there were someone to take this kind of bet, I would put my last gold coin on it.”
Trouble paced the small office. “We need to release Opal. Let her go immediately.”
Now Holly was uncertain. “Let’s think about this, Trubs.”
The commander turned on her. “Didn’t you hear what the human said? Fission! We can’t have fission underground.”
“I agree, but it could still be a trick.”
“The alternative is too terrible. We turn her loose and hunt her down. Get Atlantis on the line now. I need to speak to the warden at the Deeps. Is it still Vinyáya?”
Artemis spoke quietly but with the commanding tone that had made him a natural leader since the age of ten.
“It’s too late to free Opal. All we can do is save her life. That’s what she planned for all along.”
“Save her life?” objected Trouble. “But we still have…” Commander Kelp checked the countdown clock. “Ten minutes.”
Artemis patted Holly’s shoulder, then stepped away from her. “If fairy bureaucracy is anything like the human kind, you won’t be able to get Opal into a shuttle in that time. What you might be able to do is get her down to the reactor core.”
Kelp had not yet learned the hard way to shut up and let Artemis explain, and so kept asking questions, slowing down the process, wasting valuable seconds.
“Reactor core? What reactor core?”
Artemis raised a finger. “One more question, Commander, and I will be forced to have Butler restrain you.”
Kelp was a breath away from ejecting Artemis or charging him with something, but the situation was critical and if there was a chance that this human could in some way help…
He clenched his fists till his fingers creaked. “Okay. Talk.”
“The Deeps is powered by a natural fission reactor in a uranium ore layer set on a bed of granite similar to the one in Oklo, Gabon,” said Artemis, tugging the facts from his memory. “The People’s Power Company harvests the energy in small pods set into the uranium. These pods are constructed with science and magic to withstand a moderate nuclear blast. This is taught in schools here. Every fairy in the room knows this, correct?”
Everyone nodded. Technically it was correct, as they did know it now.
“If we can place Opal inside the pod before the deadline, then the blast will at least be contained and theoretically, if we pump in enough anti-rad foam, Opal might even retain her physical integrity. Though that is something I would not bet my last gold coin on. Opal, apparently, is prepared to take the risk.”
Trouble was tempted to poke Artemis in the chest but wisely resisted. “You’re saying that all of this is an elaborate escape plan?”
“Of course,” said Artemis. “And not all that elaborate. Opal is forcing you to release her from her cell. The alternative is the utter destruction of Atlantis and every soul in it, which is unthinkable to anyone except Opal herself.”
Foaly had already brought up the prison plans. “The reactor core is less than a hundred yards below Opal’s cell. I’m contacting the warden now.”
Holly knew that Artemis was a genius and that there was no one more qualified to second-guess kidnappers. But still, they had options.
She gazed at the figures onscreen and was chilled by how casual the gnomes seemed, in the light of what they were about to do. They slouched like adolescents, barely glancing at their captive, cocky in their abilities and not even a jot self-conscious about their cartoon-character smart-masks, which “read” their faces and displayed the appropriate emotions in exaggerated cartoon style. Smart-masks were very popular with the karaoke crowd, who could then look like their idols as well as trying to sound like them.
Perhaps they don’t know exactly what’s at stake here, Holly thought suddenly. Perhaps they are as clueless as I was ten seconds ago.
“Can they hear us?” she asked Foaly.
“They can, but we haven’t responded yet. Just press the button.”
This was just an old figure of speech; there was of course no actual button, just a sensor on the touch screen.