The holiday rep wilted before him and slunk back into line, wishing her uniform wasn't quite so
pink.
Foaly was waiting at the pod. Serious though the moment was, he couldn't resist an amused
whinny at the sight of Root's belly wobbling ever so slightly in his clinging jumpsuit.
'Are you sure about this, Commander? Generally we allow only one passenger per pod.'
'What do you mean?' snarled Root. 'There is only one ...'
Then he caught Foaly's meaningful glance at his stomach.
'Oh. Ha ha. Very amusing. Keep it up, Foaly. I have my limit, you know.'
But it was a hollow threat and they both knew it. Not only had Foaly built their communications
network from scratch, but he was also a pioneer in the field of flare prediction. Without him, human
technology could very easily catch up with the fairy brand.
Root strapped himself into the pod. No half-century-old crafts for the commander. This baby was
fresh off the assembly line. All silver and shiny, with the new jagged fin stabilizers that were
supposed to read the magma currents automatically. Foaly's innovation, of course. For a century or
so his pod designs had leaned towards the futuristic - plenty of neon and rubber. Lately, however,
his sensibilities had become more retrospective, replacing the gadgetry with walnut dashes and
leather upholstery. Root found this old-style decor strangely comforting.
He wrapped his fingers around the joysticks and suddenly realized just how long it was since he
had ridden the hotshots. Foaly noticed his discomfort.
'Don't worry, chief,' he said without the usual cynicism. 'It's like riding a unicorn. You never
forget.'
Root grunted, unconvinced. 'Let's get the show on the road,' he muttered. 'Before I change my
mind.'
Foaly hauled the door across until the suction ring took hold, sealing the portal with a pneumatic
hiss. Root's face took on a green hue through the quartz pane. He didn't look too scary any more.
Quite the opposite in fact.
Artemis was performing a little field surgery on the fairy locator. It was no mean feat to alter
some of the dimensions without destroying the mechanisms. The technologies were most definitely
incompatible. Imagine trying to perform open-heart surgery with a sledgehammer.
The first problem was opening the cursed thing. The screwheads defied both flathead and Phillips
screwdrivers. Even Artemis's extensive set of Allen keys were unable to find purchase in the tiny
grooves. Think futuristic, Artemis told himself. Think advanced technology.
It came to him after a few moments' silent contemplation. Magnetic bolts. Obvious really. But
how to construct a revolving magnetic field in the back of a four-wheel drive? Impossible. The only
thing for it was to chase the screws around manually with a domestic magnet.
Artemis hunted the small magnet from its niche in the toolbox and applied both poles to the tiny
screws. The negative side wiggled them slightly. It was enough to give Artemis some purchase with
needlenose pliers, and he soon had the locator's panel disassembled before him.
The circuitry was minute. And not a sign of a solder bead. They must use another form of binder.
Perhaps if he had time the principles of this device could be unravelled, but for now he would have
to improvise. He would have to rely on the inattention of others. And if the People were anything
like humans, they saw what they wanted to see.
Artemis held the locator's face up to the cab's light. It was translucent. Slightly polarized but
good enough. He nudged a slew of tiny shimmering wires aside, inserting a buttonhole camera in the
space. He secured the pea-sized transmitter with a dab of silicone. Crude but effective. Hopefully.
The magnetic screws refused to be coaxed back into their grooves without the proper tool, so
Artemis was forced to glue them too. Messy, but it should suffice, provided the locator wasn't
examined too closely. And if it was? Well, he would only lose an advantage that he never expected
to have in the first place.
Butler knocked off his high beams as they entered the city limits. 'Docks coming up, Artemis,' he
said over his shoulder. 'There's bound to be a Customs and Excise crew around somewhere.'
Artemis nodded. It made sense. The port was a thriving artery of illegal activity. Over fifty per
cent of the country's contraband made it ashore somewhere along this half-mile stretch.
'A diversion then, Butler. Two minutes are all I need.'
The manservant nodded thoughtfully.
'The usual?'
'I don't see why not. Knock yourself out…Or rather don't.'
Artemis blinked. That was his second joke in recent times. And his first aloud. Better take care.
This was no time for frivolity.
The dockers were rolling cigarettes. It wasn't easy with fingers the size of lead bars, but they
managed. And if a few strands of brown tobacco dropped to the rough flagstones, what of it? The
pouches were available by the carton from a little man who didn't bother adding government tax to
his prices.
Butler strolled over to the men, his eyes shadowed beneath the brim of a watch cap.
'Cold night,' he said to the assembled group.
No one replied. Policemen came in all shapes and sizes.
The big stranger persevered. 'Even work is better than standing around on a frosty one like
tonight.'
One of the workmen, a bit soft in the head, couldn't help nodding in agreement. A comrade drove
an elbow into his ribs.
'Still though,' continued the newcomer, 'I don't suppose you girls ever did a decent day's work in
your lives.'
Again there was no reply. But this time it was because the dockers' mouths were hanging open in
amazement.
'Yep, you're a pathetic-looking bunch, right enough,' went on Butler blithely. 'Oh, I've no doubt
you would have passed as men during the famine. But by today's standards you're little more than a
pack of blouse-wearing weaklings.'
'Arrrrgh,' said one of the dock hands. It was all he could manage.
Butler raised an eyebrow. 'Argh? Pathetic and inarticulate. Nice combination. Your mothers must
be so proud.'
The stranger had crossed a sacred line. He had mentioned the men's mothers. Nothing could get
him out of a beating now, even the fact that he was obviously a simpleton. Albeit a simpleton with a
good vocabulary.
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