'Now?'
'No.'
'Now ..."
'Everything's gone red. Ultraviolet. No fairies.'
'Now?'
'No. Polaroid, I think.'
'Last one.'
Butler smiled. A shark that's spotted a bare behind.
'Gottem.'
Butler was seeing the world as it was, complete with LEPretrieval team sweeping the avenue.
'Hmm,' said Artemis. 'Strobe variation, I would guess. Very high frequency.'
'I see,' fibbed Butler.
'Metaphorically or literally?' smiled his employer.
'Exactly.'
Artemis shook himself. More jokes. Next thing he'd be wearing clown shoes and turning
cartwheels in the main hall.
'Very well, Butler. Time for you to do what you do best. We appear to have intruders in the
grounds ...'
Butler stood. No further instructions were necessary. He tightened the hard-hat straps, striding
brusquely to the door.
'Oh, and Butler.'
'Yes, Artemis?'
'I prefer scared to dead. If possible.'
Butler nodded. If possible.
LEPretrieval One were the best and the brightest. It was every little fairy's dream that one day he
would grow up to don the stealth-black jumpsuit of the Retrieval commandos. These were the elite.
Trouble was their middle name. In the case of Captain Kelp, Trouble was actually his first name.
He'd insisted on it at his manhood ceremony, having just been accepted into the Academy.
Trouble led his team down the sweeping avenue. As usual, he took the point position himself,
determined to be the first into the fray if, as he fervently hoped, a fray developed.
'Check in,' he whispered into the mike that wound snake-like from his helmet.
'Negative on one.'
'Nothing, Captain.'
'A big negatori, Trouble.'
Captain Kelp winced.
'We're in the field, Corporal. Follow procedure.'
'But Mummy said!'
'I don't care what Mummy said, Corporal! Rank is rank! You will refer to me as Captain Kelp.'
'Yessir, Captain,' sulked the corporal. 'But don't ask me to iron your tunic any more.'
Trouble zeroed in on his brother's channel, shutting out the rest of the squad.
'Shut up about Mummy, will you? And the ironing. You're only on this mission because I
requested you! Now start acting like a professional or get back to the perimeter!'
'OK, Trubs.'
'Trouble!' shouted Captain Kelp. 'It's Trouble. Not Trubs, or Trub. Trouble! OK?'
'OK. Trouble. Mummy's right. You're only a baby.' Swearing very unprofessionally, Captain Kelp
switched his headset back to the open channel. He was just in time to hear an unusual sound.
'Arrkk.'
'What was that?'
'What?'
'Dunno.'
'Nothing, Captain.'
But Trouble had done a Sound Recognition in-service for his captain's exam, and he was pretty
sure the 'Arrkk' had been caused by someone getting a chop across the windpipe. More than likely
his brother had walked into a shrub.
'Grub? Are you all right?'
'That's Corporal Grub to you.'
Kelp viciously kicked a daisy.
'Check in. Sound off in sequence.'
'One, OK.'
'Two, fine.'
'Three, bored but alive.'
'Five approaching west wing.'
Kelp froze. 'Wait. Four? You there, Four? What's your situation?'
'.................' Nothing except static.
'Right. Four is down. Possibly an equipment malfunction. Still, we can't afford to take any
chances. Regroup by the main door.'
Retrieval One crept together, making slightly less noise than a silk spider. Kelp did a quick head
count. Eleven. One short of a full complement. Four was probably wandering around the rose
bushes, wondering why nobody was talking to him.
Then Trouble noticed two things - one, a pair of black boots was sticking out of a shrub beside
the door, and two, there was a massive human standing in the doorway. The figure was cradling a
very nasty-looking gun in the crook of his arm.
'Go silent,' whispered Kelp, and immediately eleven full-face visors slid down to seal in the
sounds of his squad's breathing and communications.
'Now, nobody panic. I think I can trace the sequence of events here. Four is skulking around
outside the door. The Mud Man opens it. Four gets a whack on the noggin and lands in the bushes.
No problem. Our cover is intact. Repeat intact. So no itchy fingers, please. Grub…Sorry, Corporal
Kelp, check Four's vitals. The rest of you make a hole and keep it quiet.'
The squad stepped back carefully until they were standing on the manicured grassy verge. The
figure before them was indeed impressive, without doubt the biggest human any of them had ever
seen.
'D'Arvit,' breathed Two.
'Maintain radio silence, except in emergencies,' ordered Kelp.' Swearing is hardly an emergency.'
Secretly, however, he concurred with the sentiment. This was one time he was glad to be shielded.
That man looked as if he could squash half a dozen fairies in one massive fist.
Grub returned to his slot. 'Four is stable. Concussed, I'd guess. But otherwise OK. His shield's
off though, so I stuffed him in the bushes.'
'Well done, Corporal. Good thinking.'
The last thing they needed was for Four's boots to be spotted.
The man moved, lumbering casually along the path. He may have glanced left or right, it was
difficult to tell beneath the hood pulled over his eyes. Odd for a human to wear a hood on such a
fine night.
'Safety catches off,' ordered Trouble.
He imagined his men rolling their eyes. Like they hadn't had their safeties off for the last half an
hour. Still, you had to go by the book, in case of a tribunal later on. There was a time when Retrieval
blasted first and answered questions never. But not any more. Now there was always some
do-gooder civilian banging on about civil rights. Even for humans, would you believe it?
The man mountain stopped, right in the middle of the squad. If he had been able to see them, it
would be the perfect tactical position. Their own firearms were virtually useless, as they would
probably do more damage to each other than the human.
Fortunately the entire squad was invisible, with the exception of Four, who was safely secreted in
what appeared to be a rhododendron.
'Buzz batons. Fire 'em up.'
Just in case. No harm in being cautious.
And when the LEP officers were switching weapons, right at that moment when their hands were
fumbling with holsters, that's when the Mud Man spoke.
'Evening, gentlemen,' he said, sweeping back his hood.
Funny that, thought Trouble. It was almost as if…Then he saw the makeshift goggles.
'Cover!' he screamed. 'Cover!'
But it was too late. No option but to stand and fight. And that was no option at all.
Butler could have taken them from the parapet. One at a time with the ivory hunter's rifle. But
that wasn't the plan. This was all about making an impression. Sending a message. It was standard
procedure with any police force in the world to send in the cannon fodder first before opening
negotiations. It was almost expected that they would meet with resistance, and Butler was happy to
oblige.
He peeked out through the letter box and, oh happy coincidence, there was a pair of goggled eyes
peeking right back at him. It was just too fortuitous to pass up.
'Bed time,' said Butler, heaving the door with a mighty shoulder. The fairy flew several metres
before alighting in the shrubbery. Juliet would be devastated. She loved rhododendrons. One down.
Several to go.
Butler pulled up the peaked hood on his field jacket, stepping into the porch. There they were,
spread out like a squadron of Action Men. If not for the array of very proficient-looking weaponry
hanging from each belt, it would have been almost comical.
Sliding his finger casually under the trigger guard, Butler strode into their midst. The bulky one at
two o'clock was giving the orders. You could tell from the heads angled his way.
The leader gave a command and the squad switched to close-quarters weapons. It made sense,
they'd only cut themselves to pieces with firearms. Time for action.
'Evening, gentlemen,' Butler said. He couldn't help it, and it was worth it for that one moment of
consternation. Then his gun was up and blazing.
Captain Kelp was the first casualty, a titanium-tipped dart puncturing the neck of his suit. He
went down sluggishly, as though the air had turned to water. Two more of the squad were dropped
before they had any idea what was going on.
It must be quite traumatic, thought Butler dispassionately, to lose an advantage that you've held
for centuries.
By now, the remains of Retrieval One had their buzz batons fired up and raised. But they made
the mistake of hanging back, waiting for a command that was not forthcoming. This gave Butler an
opportunity to take the fight to them. As if he needed another advantage.
Even so, for a second the manservant hesitated. These beings were so small. Like children. Then
Grub clipped him on the elbow with his buzz baton and 1,000 volts spread across Butler's chest. All
sympathy for the little people vanished instantly.
Butler grabbed the offending baton, swinging weapon and bearer like a set of bolas. Grub
squealed as he was released, his new-found momentum carrying him directly into three of his
comrades.
Butler continued the swinging motion, driving punishing punches into the chests of two more
fairies. Another clambered on to his back, stinging him repeatedly with the baton. Butler fell on
him. Something cracked and the stinging stopped.
Suddenly there was a barrel under his chin. One of Retrieval had managed to get his weapon
cocked.
'Freeze, Mud Boy,' droned a helmet-filtered voice. It was a serious-looking gun, liquid coolant
bubbled along its length. 'Just give me a reason.'
Butler rolled his eyes. Different race, same macho clichés. He slapped the fairy open-handed. To
the little man it must have been like the sky falling on his head.
'That reason enough for you?'
Butler scrambled to his feet. Fairy bodies were scattered around him in various stages of shock
and unconsciousness. Scared definitely. Dead, probably not. Mission accomplished.
One little chap was faking though. You could tell by the way his tiny knees knocked together
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