The Time Paradox

“Captain Short, all is well in Hamburg, I trust?”

 

 

Holly seemed speechless for a moment; her mouth hung open and her hands reached out as if to touch the commander. In her time he was dead, murdered by Opal Koboi, but here and now Julius Root was as vital as she remembered.

 

Root cleared his throat. “All is well, Captain?”

 

“Yes. Of course, Commander. All is well, for the moment. Though it might be an idea to have Retrieval on standby.”

 

Root dismissed this idea with a wave of his cigar. “Nonsense. Your record so far speaks for itself. You have never needed backup before.”

 

Holly smiled. “Always a first time.”

 

Root blinked. Something on the hologram ring’s floating gaseous readout had caught his eye.

 

“Are you calling me from Africa? What are you doing in Africa?”

 

Holly slapped her palm against the instrument panel on her end. “No, I’m in Hamburg, in the observation hide. Stupid machine. The projectors are all wrong too. I look about ten years old on the monitor. I’m going to strangle Foaly when I get back.”

 

Root couldn’t help but smile at that, but he tucked it away quickly.

 

“Why the hologram, Short? What’s wrong with a plain old communicator? Do you know how expensive it is to beam sound and vision through the earth’s crust?”

 

Holly’s image flickered and stared at its feet, then up again.

 

“I . . . I just wanted to thank you, Jul . . . Commander.”

 

Root was surprised. Thank him. For months of impossible tasks and double shifts.

 

“Thank me, Captain? This is most irregular. I’m not sure I’m doing my job right if fairies are thanking me.”

 

“Yes, yes you are,” blurted Holly’s image. “You do a fine job, more than fine. No one appreciated . . . appreciates you enough. But I do now. I know what you were . . . are trying to do for me. So thank you, and I won’t let you down.”

 

Root was surprised to find that he was actually touched. It wasn’t every day he was faced with such genuine emotion.

 

Look at me, he thought. Blubbering at a hologram. Wouldn’t Foaly love this.

 

“I . . . ’hem . . . I accept your thanks, and I believe them to be heartfelt. Although I don’t expect an expensive hologram call during every mission; just the once will be fine.”

 

“Understood, Commander.”

 

“And be careful in Hamburg. Make sure to check your equipment.”

 

“I will, Commander,” said Holly, and Root could have sworn she rolled her eyes, but it could have been another glitch in the program.

 

“Anything else, Captain?”

 

Holly reached out her hand; it shimmered and wavered slightly with the motion. Root was not sure what he was supposed to do. Hologram etiquette was very clear: hugging and shaking were not encouraged. After all, who wants to embrace a pixellated image?

 

But still the hand was there.

 

“Wish me luck, Commander. One officer to another.”

 

Root grunted. With any other subordinate he would have suspected toadying, but Captain Short had always impressed him with her candor.

 

He reached out his hand and felt a slight tingle as it touched Holly’s virtual digits.

 

“Good luck, Captain,” he said gruffly. “And try to tone down that maverick streak. Someday I won’t be around to help you.”

 

“Will do, Commander. Good-bye,” said Holly, and then she was gone. But in the seconds before her holographic image fizzled out, Julius Root could have sworn he saw rough holographic tears glint on her cheeks.

 

Stupid machine, he thought. I will demand that Foaly recalibrate the lot of them.

 

Holly stepped out of the holo-booth, which resembled an ancient shower unit with a rubber curtain. With the touch of a button it collapsed and self-sealed into the portable briefcase.

 

There were tears in her eyes as she strapped herself into the pilot’s chair and flicked off the autopilot.

 

Artemis squirmed slightly in the copilot’s chair.

 

“So, are we even?”

 

Holly nodded. “Yes. We’re even. But your elf-kissing days are over.”

 

“I see,” said Artemis.

 

“It’s not a challenge, Artemis. Over is over.”

 

“I know,” said Artemis neutrally.

 

The sat in silence for a while, watching low mountains speed across the desert toward them, then Holly leaned across and punched Artemis gently on the shoulder.

 

“Thanks, Arty.”

 

“You are most welcome. All I did was have an idea.”

 

Mulch emerged noisily from the bathroom, scratching and grunting.

 

“Wooo-oh, that’s better. Thank the gods for soundproofing, eh?”

 

Holly winced. “Close the door and let the extractor fan do its work.”

 

Mulch slammed the door with a flick of his heel. “I was thinking in there, you know, rooo-minating.”

 

“I don’t think I want to hear this.”

 

Mulch plowed on, regardless. “That little lemur. The silky whatever. You know who he reminds me of with that buzz-cut hairdo?”

 

They had all been thinking it.

 

“Commander Root,” said Holly, smiling.

 

“Yep. A miniature Commander Root.”

 

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