Eoin Colfer: Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code

Tunnel and, sure enough, the door was sliding down, emergency lights revolving along its lower edge. Sixty metres of solid steel separating Haven from the outside world. Similar doors were dropping at strategic arches all over the city. Lockdown. There were only three reasons why the Council would initiate a city-wide lockdown: flood, quarantine, or discovery by the humans.

Holly looked around her. Nobody was drowning; nobody was sick.

So the Mud People were coming. Finally, every fairy’s worst nightmare was coming true.

Emergency lights flickered on overhead, the sun strips’ soft white glow replaced by an eerie orange. Official vehicles would receive a burst of power from the magnastrip, enough to get them to the nearest depot.

Ordinary citizens were not so lucky; they would have to walk.

Hundreds stumbled from their automobiles, too scared to pro test. That would come later.

‘Captain Short! Holly!’

It was Grub. No doubt he would be lodging a complaint with someone.

‘Corporal,’ she said, turning back to the vehicle. ‘This is no time for panic. We need to set an example. .’

The lecture petered out in her throat when she saw what was happening to the wagon. All LEP vehicles would have by now received the regulation ten-minute burst of power from the magnastrip to get them and their cargo to safety. This power would also keep the perspex cuffs vacuumed. Of course, as they weren’t using an official LEP vehicle they hadn’t been cleared for emergency power — something the goblins obviously realized, because they were trying to burn their way out of the wagon.

Grub stumbled from the cab, his helmet blackened by soot.

‘The cuffs have popped open, so now they’ve started blasting the doors,’ he panted, retreating to a safe distance. Goblins. Evolution’s little joke. Pick the dumbest creatures on the planet and give them the ability to conjure fire. If the goblins didn’t stop blasting the wagon’s reinforced interior they would soon be encased in molten metal. Not a nice way to go, even if you were fireproof. Holly activated the amplifier in her LEP helmet. ‘You there, in the wagon. Cease fire. The vehicle will collapse and you will be trapped.’

For several moments, smoke billowed from the vents. Then the vehicle settled on its axles. A face appeared at the grille, forked tongue slithering through the mesh.

‘You think we’re stupid, elf? We’re gonna burn clean through this pile of junk.’

Holly stepped closer, turning up the speakers. ‘Listen to me, goblin.

You are stupid, let’s just accept that and move on. If you continue to fireball that vehicle, the roof will melt and fall on you like shells from a human gun. You may be fireproof, but are you bulletproof?’ The goblin licked his lidless eyes, thinking it over. ‘You lie, elf! We will blow a hole right through this prison. You will be next.’

The wagon’s panels began to lurch and buckle as the goblins renewed their attack.

‘Not to worry,’ said Grub, from a safe distance. ‘The fire extinguishers will get them.’

‘They would,’ corrected Holly, ‘if the fire extinguishers weren’t connected to the main power grid, which is shut down.’

A mobile food-preparation wagon such as this one would have to adhere to the strictest fire regulations before setting one magna wheel on the strip. In this case, several foam-packed extinguishers, which could submerge the entire interior in flame-retardant foam in a matter of seconds. The nice thing about the flame foam was that it hardened on contact with air, but the not-so-nice thing about flame foam was that the trip switch was connected to the magna strip. No power. No foam.

Holly drew her Neutrino 2000 from its holster. ‘I’ll just have to trip this switch myself.’

Captain Short sealed her helmet and climbed into the wagon’s cab.

She avoided touching metal wherever possible, because even though microfilaments in her LEP jumpsuit were designed to disperse extra heat, microfilaments didn’t always do what they were designed to do.

The goblins were on their backs, pumping fireball after fireball into the roof panels.

‘Knock it off!’ she ordered, pointing her laser’s muzzle through the mesh.

Three of the goblins ignored her. One, possibly the leader, turned his scaly face to the grille. Holly saw that he had eyeball tattoos. This act of supreme stupidity probably would have guaranteed him promotion had the B’wa Kell not been effectively disbanded.

‘You will not be able to get us all, elf,’ he said, smoke leaking from his mouth and slitted nostrils. ‘Then one of us will get you.’

The goblin was right, even if he didn’t realize why. Holly suddenly remembered that she could not fire during a lockdown. Regulations stated that there were to be no unshielded power surges in case Haven was being probed.

Her hesitation was all the proof the goblin needed.

‘I knew it!’ he crowed, tossing a casual fireball at the grille. The mesh glowed red, and sparks cascaded against Holly’s visor. Over the goblins’ heads, the roof sagged dangerously. A few more seconds and it would collapse.

Holly undipped a piton dart from her belt, screwing it into the launcher above the Neutrino’s main barrel. The launcher was spring-loaded, like an old-fashioned spear gun, and would not give off a heat flash: nothing to alarm any sensors.

The goblin was highly amused, as goblins often are just before incarceration, which explains why so many are incarcerated.

‘A dart? You going to prod us all to death, little elf?’

Holly aimed at a clip protruding from the fire-foam nozzle in the rear of the wagon.

‘Would you please be quiet?’ she said, and launched the dart. It flew over the goblin’s head, jamming itself between the rods of the nozzle clip; the piton cord stretched the length of the wagon.

‘Missed me,’ said the goblin, waggling his forked tongue. It was a testament to the goblin’s stupidity that he could be trapped in a melting vehicle during a lockdown with an LEP officer firing at him, and still think he had the upper hand.

‘I told you to be quiet!’ said Holly, pulling sharply on the piton cord and snapping the clip.

Eight hundred kilograms of extinguisher foam blasted from the diffuser nozzle at over two hundred miles per hour. Needless to say, all fireballs went out. The goblins were pinned down by the force of the already hardening foam. The leader was pressed so forcibly against the grille that his tattooed eyes were easily legible. One said ‘Mummy’, the other ‘Duddy’. A misspelling, though he probably didn’t know it.

‘Ow,’ he said. More from disbelief than pain. He didn’t say anything else, because his mouth was full of congealing foam.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Holly. ‘The foam is porous, so you will be able to breathe, but it’s also completely fireproof, so good luck trying to burn your way out.’

Grub was still examining his hangnail when Holly emerged from the van. She removed her helmet, wiping the soot from the visor with the sleeve of her jumpsuit. It was supposed to be non-stick; maybe she should send it in for another coating.

‘Everything all right?’ asked Grub.

‘Yes, Corporal. Everything is all right. No thanks to you.’

Grub had the audacity to look offended. ‘I was securing the perimeter, Captain. We can’t all be action heroes.’

That was typical Grub, an excuse for every occasion. She could deal with him later. Now it was vital that she get to Police Plaza and find out why the Council had shut down the city.

‘I think we should get back to HQ,’ Grub offered. ‘The intelligence boys might want to interview me if the humans are invading.’

‘I think I should get back to HQ,’ said Holly. ‘You stay here and keep an eye on the suspects until the power comes back on. Do you think you can handle that? Or are you too incapacitated with that hangnail?’