“Come on, Holly, it’s just sensational fiction. You know those humans and their imaginations. Relax.”
Foaly was right. If she got worked up every time the human media misrepresented a mythical creature, she would spend half her life in a rage. Over the centuries Mud Men had caught glimpses of the fairy folk, and had twisted the truth of these glimpses almost beyond recognition.
Let it go. There are decent humans. Remember Artemis and Butler.
“Did you see that human movie with the centaurs?” she asked the centaur on the other end of her helmet communicator. “They were noble and sporty. ‘My sword for thee, Majesty, then off for a spot of hunting.’ Fit centaurs, now that did make me laugh.”
Thousands of miles away, somewhere in the earth’s mantle below Ireland, Foaly, the Lower Elements Police’s technical adviser, rubbed his paunch.
“Holly, that hurts. Caballine likes my belly.”
Foaly had got married, or hitched, as centaurs called the ceremony, while Holly had been away with Artemis Fowl, rescuing demons in Limbo. A lot had changed in the three years she had been away, and sometimes Holly was finding it difficult to keep up. Foaly had a new bride to occupy his time. Her old friend Trouble Kelp had been promoted to LEP Commander, and she was back working at Recon with the Kraken Watch task force.
“Apologies, friend. That was mean,” said Holly. “I like your belly too. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to see a hitching sash around it.”
“Me too. Next time.”
Holly smiled. “Sure. That’s going to happen.”
Traditionally, male centaurs were expected to take more than one bride, but Caballine was a modern fairy, and Holly doubted if she would stand for a new filly in the household.
“Don’t worry, I’m joking.”
“You’d better be, because I’m meeting Caballine at the spa this weekend.”
“How’s the new gear?” said Foaly, hurriedly changing the subject.
Holly spread her arms wide, feeling the wind ripple her fingers, seeing the Baltic Sea flash past below in shards of blue and white.
“It’s wonderful,” she said. “Absolutely wonderful.”
*
Captain Holly Short of LEPrecon flew in wide lazy circles above Helsinki, enjoying the brisk Scandinavian air filtering through her helmet. It was just after five a.m. local time, and the rising sun set the Uspenski Cathedral’s golden onion dome shimmering. Already the city’s famed marketplace was strobed with headlights as vendors arrived to open up for the morning trade, or eager politicians’ aides made their way toward the blue-gray facade of city hall.
Holly’s target lay away from what would shortly be a bustling center of commerce. She adjusted her fingers, and the sensors in her armored gloves translated the movements to commands for the mechanical wings on her back, sending her spiraling down toward the small island of Uunisaari, half a mile from the port.
“The body sensors are nice,” she said. “Very intuitive.”
“It’s as close as it gets to being a bird,” said Foaly. “Unless you want to integrate?”
“No thank you,” Holly said vehemently. She loved flying, but not enough to have a LEP surgeon stick a few implants in her cerebellum.
“Very well, Captain Short,” said Foaly, switching to business mode.“Pre-op check. Three W’s, please.”
The three W’s were every Reconnaissance officer’s checklist before approaching an operation’s zone: wings, weapon, and a way home.
Holly checked the transparent readouts on her helmet visor.
“Power cell, charged. Weapon on green. Wings and suit fully functional. No red lights.”
“Excellent,” said Foaly. “Check, check, and check. Our screens agree.”
Holly heard keys clicking as Foaly recorded this information in the mission log. The centaur was known for his fondness for old-school keyboards, even though he himself had patented an extremely efficient virtual keyboard.
“Remember, Holly, this is just reconnaissance. Go down and check the sensor. Those things are two hundred years old, and the problem is more than likely a simple overheat. All you need to do is go where I tell you and fix what I tell you. No indiscriminate blasting involved. Understand?”
Holly snorted. “I can see why Caballine fell for you, Foaly. You’re such a charmer.”
Foaly snickered. “I don’t rise to jibes anymore, Holly. Marriage has mellowed me.”
“Mellowed? I’ll believe that when you last ten minutes in a room with Mulch without throwing a hoof.”
The dwarf Mulch Diggums had been at various times enemy, partner, and friend to Holly and Foaly. His greatest pleasure in life was stuffing his face, and not far behind that was irritating his various enemies, partners, and friends.