because I went through the same training as Butler, and I've been dying for somebody to practise
my piledriver on.'
We'll see about that, human, thought Holly. Captain Short wasn't a hundred per cent yet, and
there was also the small matter of the thing digging into her ankle. She thought she knew what it
could be, and if she was right, then it could be the beginnings of a plan.
Commander Root had Holly's locator frequency keyed into his helmet face screen. It took Root
longer than expected to reach Dublin. The modern wing rigs were more complicated than he was
used to, plus he'd neglected to take refresher courses. At the right altitude, he could almost
superimpose the luminous map on his visor over the actual Dublin streets below him. Almost.
'Foaly, you pompous centaur,' he barked into his mouthpiece.
'Problem, bossman?' came the tinny reply.
'Problem? You can say that again. When was the last time you updated the Dublin files?'
Root could hear sucking noises in his ear. It sounded as though Foaly was having lunch.
'Sorry, Commander. Just finishing off this carrot. Ahm…Dublin, let's see.
Seventy-five…Eighteen seventy-five.'
'I thought so! This place is completely different. The humans have even managed to change the
shape of the coastline.'
Foaly was silent for a moment. Root could just imagine him wrestling with the problem. The
centaur did not like to be told that any part of his system was out of date.
'OK,' he said at last. 'Here's what I'm going to do. We have a Scope on a satellite TV bird with a
footprint in Ireland.'
'I see,' muttered Root, which was basically a lie.
'I'm going to e-mail last week's sweep direct to your visor. Luckily there's a video card in all the
new helmets.'
'Luckily.'
'The tricky bit will be to coordinate your flight pattern with the video feed ...'
Root had had enough. 'How long, Foaly?'
'Ahm…Two minutes, give or take.'
'Give or take what?'
'About ten years if my calculations are off.'
'They'd better not be off then. I'll hover until we know.'
One hundred and twenty-four seconds later, Root's black and white blueprints faded out, to be
replaced by full-colour daylight imaging. When Root moved it moved, and Holly's locator beacon
dot moved too.
'Impressive,' said Root.
'What was that, Commander?'
'I said impressive,' shouted Root. 'No need to get a swollen head.'
The commander heard the sound of a roomful of laughter, and realized that Foaly had him on the
speakers. Everyone had heard him complimenting the centaur's work. There'd be no talking to him
for at least a month. But it was worth it. The video he was receiving now was bang up to date. If
Captain Short was being held in a building, the computer would be able to give him 3D blueprints
instantaneously. It was foolproof. Except ...
'Foaly, the beacon's gone off shore. What's going on?'
'Boat or ship, sir, I'd say at a guess.'
Root cursed himself for not thinking of it. They'd be having a right old giggle in the situation
room. Of course it was a ship. Root dropped down a few hundred metres until its shadowy outline
loomed through the mist. A whaler by the looks of it. Technology may have changed over the
centuries, but there was still nothing like a harpoon to slaughter the world's largest mammal.
'Captain Short is in there somewhere, Foaly. Below decks. What can you give me?'
'Nothing, sir. It's not a permanent fixture. By the time we've run down her registration, it'd be
way too late.'
'What about thermal imaging?'
'No, Commander. That hull must be at least fifty years old. Very high lead content. We can't even
penetrate the first layer. I'm afraid you're on your own.'
Root shook his head. 'After all the billions we've poured into your department. Remind me to
slash your budget when I get back.'
'Yes, sir,' came the reply, sullen for once. Foaly did not like budget jokes.
'Just have the Retrieval Squad on full alert. I may need them at a moment's notice.'
'I will, sir.'
'You'd better. Over and out.'
Root was on his own. Truth be told, that was the way he liked it. No science. No uppity centaur
whinnying in his ear. Just a fairy, his wits and maybe a touch of magic.
Root tilted his polymer wings, hugging the underside of a fogbank. There was no need to be
careful. With his shield activated, he was invisible to the human eye. Even on stealth-sensitive radar
he would be no more than a barely perceptible distortion. The commander swooped low to the
gunwales. It was an ugly craft, this one. The smell of death and pain lingered in the blood-swabbed
decks. Many noble creatures had died here, died and been dissected for a few bars of soap and some
heating oil. Root shook his head. Humans were such barbarians.
Holly's beeper was flashing urgently now. She was close by. Very close. Somewhere within a
200-metre radius was the hopefully still-breathing form of Captain Short. But without blueprints he
would have to navigate the belly of this ship unaided.
Root alighted gently on the deck, his boots adhering slightly to the mixture of dried soap and
blubber coating the steel surface. The craft appeared to be deserted. No sentry on the gangplank, no
bosun on the bridge, not a light anywhere. Still, no reason to abandon caution. Root knew from
bitter experience that humans popped up when you least expected them. Once, when he was
helping the Retrieval boys scrape some pod wreckage off a tunnel wall, they were spotted by a group
of potholing humans. What a mess that had been. Mass hysteria, high-speed chases, group
mind-wipes. The whole nine yards. Root shuddered. Nights like that could put decades on a fairy.
Keeping himself fully shielded, the commander stowed his wings in their sheath, advancing on
foot across the deck. There were no other life forms showing up on his screen but, like Foaly said,
the hull had a high lead content; even the paint was lead-based! The entire boat was a floating
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