shrapnel.
The centaur slapped it fondly on a fender. 'This baby's been in service for fifty years. Oldest
model still in the chutes.'
Holly swallowed.The chutes made her nervous enough without riding in an antique.
'When does it come off-line?'
Foaly scratched his hairy belly. 'With funding the way it is, not until we have us a fatality.'
Holly cranked open the heavy door, the rubber seal yielding with a hiss. The pod was not built for
comfort. There was barely enough space for a restraining seat among the jumble of electronics.
'What's that?' asked Holly, pointing at a greyish stain on the seat's headrest.
Foaly shuffled uncomfortably.
'Erm…brain fluid, I think. We had a pressure leak on the last mission. But that's plugged now.
And the officer lived. Down a few IQ points, but alive, and he can still take liquids.'
'Well, that's all right then,' quipped Holly, threading her way through the mass of wires.
Foaly strapped the harness on to her, checking the restraints thoroughly.
'All set?'
Holly nodded.
Foaly tapped her helmet mike. 'Keep in touch,' he said, pulling the door behind him.
Don't think about it, Holly told herself. Don't think about the white-hot magma flow that's going
to engulf this tiny craft. Don't think about hurtling towards the surface with a MACH 2 force trying
to turn you inside-out. And certainly don't think about the blood-crazed troll ready to disembowel
you with his tusks. Nope. Don't think about any of that stuff…Too late.
'-minus twenty,' he said. 'We're on a secure channel in case the Mud People have s
Foaly's voice sounded in her earpiece. 'T tarted underground monitoring. You never know. An oil
tanker from the Middle East intercepted a transmission one time. What a mess that was.'
Holly adjusted her helmet mike.
'Focus, Foaly. My life is in your hands here.'
'Uh…OK, sorry. We're going to use the rail to drop you into E7's main shaft, there's a surge due
any minute. That should see you past the first hundred klicks, then you're on your own.'
Holly nodded, curling her fingers around the twin joysticks.
'All systems check. Fire it up.'
There was a whoosh as the pod's engines ignited. The tiny craft jostled in its housing, shaking
Holly like a bead in a rattle. She could barely hear Foaly speaking into her ear.
'You're in the secondary shaft now. Get ready to fly, Short.'
Holly pulled a rubber cylinder from the dash and slipped it between her teeth. No good having a
radio if you've swallowed your tongue. She activated the external cameras and put the view on
screen.
The entrance to E7 was creeping towards her. The air was shimmering in the landing-light glow.
White-hot sparks tumbled into the secondary shaft. Holly couldn't hear the roar, but she could
imagine it. A raw skinning wind like a million trolls howling.
Her fingers tightened around the joysticks. The pod shuddered to a halt at the lip. The chute
stretched above and below. Massive. Boundless. Like dropping an ant down a drainpipe.
'Right-o,' crackled Foaly. 'Hold on to your breakfast. Rollercoasters ain't got nothing on this.'
Holly nodded. She couldn't speak, not with the rubber in her mouth. The centaur would be able
to see her in the podcam anyway.
'Sayonara, sweetheart,' said Foaly, and pressed the button.
The pod's clamp tilted, rolling Holly into the abyss. Her stomach tightened as G-force took hold,
dragging her to the centre of the earth. The seismology section had a million probes down here,
with a 99.8 success rate at predicting the magma flares. But there was always that point two per cent.
The fall seemed to last for an eternity. And just when Holly had mentally consigned herself to the
scrap heap, she felt it. That unforgettable vibration. The feeling that, outside her tiny sphere, the
whole world was being shaken apart. Here it comes.
'Fins,' she said, spitting the word around the cylinder.
Foaly may have replied, she couldn't hear him any more. Holly couldn't even hear herself, but she
did see the stabilization fins slide out on the monitor.
The flare caught her like a hurricane, spinning the pod at first until the fins caught. Half-melted
rocks pelted the craft's underside, jolting it towards the chute walls. Holly compensated with bursts
from the joysticks.
The heat was tremendous in the confined space, enough to fry a human. But fairy lungs are made
of stronger stuff. The acceleration dragged at her body with invisible hands, stretching the flesh over
her arms and face. Holly blinked salty sweat from her eyes and concentrated on the monitor. The
flare had totally engulfed her pod, and it was a big one too. Force seven at the very least. A good
500-metre girth. Orange-striped magma swirled and hissed around her, searching for a weak point in
the metal casing.
The pod groaned and complained, fifty-year-old rivets threatening to pop. Holly shook her head.
The first thing she was going to do on her return was kick Foaly straight in the hairy behind. She felt
like a nut inside a shell, between a gnome's molars. Doomed.
A bow plate buckled, popped in as though punched by a giant fist. The pressure light blinked on.
Holly could feel her head being squeezed. The eyes would be first to go - popping like ripe berries.
She checked the dials. Twenty more seconds before she rode out the flare and was running on
thermals. Those twenty seconds seemed like an age. Holly sealed the helmet to protect her eyes,
riding out the final barrage of rocks.
And suddenly they were clear, sailing upwards on the comparatively gentle spirals of hot air.
Holly added her own thrusters to the upward force. No time to waste floating around on the wind.
Above her, a circle of neon lights marked the docking zone. Holly swivelled horizontal and
pointed the docking nodes at the lights. This was delicate. Many Recon pilots had made it this far,
only to miss the port and lose valuable time. Not Holly. She was a natural. First in the academy.
She gave the thrusters one final squeeze and coasted the last hundred metres. Using the rudders
beneath her feet, she teased the pod through the circle of light and into its clamp on the landing
pad. The nodes revolved, settling into their grooves. Safe.
Holly smacked herself on the chest, releasing the safety harness. Once the door seal was open,
sweet surface air flooded the cabin. There was nothing like that first breath after a ride in the chutes.
She breathed deeply, purging the stale pod air from her lungs. How had the People ever left the
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