The Lost Colony Read Online Free PDF Page A

Crystal. The narrow street was a service lane for the main shopping plaza, and consisted mostly of delivery bays. The rest of the units were rented out for storage. Holly was surprised to find Doodah directly in front of her, rummaging in his pocket, presumably for the access chip to his unit. Something must have held him up for a minute. Maybe he had ducked behind a crate to avoid the Wheelies. Whatever. She had another shot at him.
    Doodah looked up, and all Holly could do was wave.
    “Morning,” she said.
    Doodah shook a tiny fist at her. “Don’t you have better things to do, elf? All I do is smuggle a few fish.”
    The question cut Holly deeply. Was this really the best way to help the People? Surely, Commander Root had wanted more from her. In the past few months she had gone from top priority surface operations to chasing down fish smugglers in a back alley. That was quite a drop.
    She showed Doodah her hands. “I don’t want you to get hurt, so stand perfectly still.”
    Doodah chuckled. “Hurt? By you? Not likely.”
    “No,” said Holly. “Not by me. By him.” She pointed at the patch of mud under Doodah’s feet.
    “Him?” Doodah looked down, suspecting a trap. His suspicions were absolutely correct. The ground beneath his feet fizzled slightly as the surface earth shivered and bounced.
    “What?” said Doodah, lifting one foot. He would doubtless have stepped off the patch if he’d had time. But what happened next, happened very quickly.
    The ground did more than just collapse, it was sucked from below Doodah with a sickening slurping sound. A hoop of teeth cut through the earth, followed by a huge mouth. There was a dwarf on the other end of the mouth, and he breached the ground like a dolphin jumping, driven apparently by gas from his rear end. The ring of teeth closed around Doodah, swallowing him to the neck.
    Mulch Diggums, for of course it was he, settled back into his tunnel, taking the unfortunate pixie with him. Doodah, it has to be said, did not look quite so cocky as he had a second ago.
    “A d . . . dwarf,” he stammered. “I thought your people didn’t like the law.”
    Holly peered into the hole. “Generally they don’t. But Mulch is an exception. You don’t mind if he doesn’t answer you himself. He might accidentally bite your head off.”
    Doodah squirmed suddenly. “What’s he doing?”
    “I imagine he’s licking you. Dwarf spittle hardens on contact with air. As soon as he opens his mouth, you’ll be locked up tight as a chick in an egg.”
    Mulch winked at Holly. It was about as much gloating as he could pull off at the moment, but Holly knew that he would spend the next several days boasting about his skills.
    Dwarfs can tunnel through miles of earth. Dwarfs have jet-powered rear ends. Dwarfs can produce two gallons of rock spittle every hour. What have you got? Besides a famous face that keeps blowing our cover?
    Holly peered into the hole, the toe of one boot hooked over the edge. “Okay, partner. Good job. Now, can you please spit out the fugitive.”
    Mulch was happy to oblige. He hawked Doodah onto the lane’s surface, then clambered up himself, rehinging his jaw.
    “This is disgusting,” moaned Doodah, as the viscous spittle solidified on his limbs. “It stinks, too.”
    “Hey,” said Mulch, injured. “The smell is not my fault. If you’d rented storage on a cleaner street . . .”
    “Oh yeah, stinky? Well, this is what I think of you.” Doodah attempted a pixie hex gesture, but fortunately the rock spittle froze his arm before he could complete it.
    “Okay, you two. Cut it out,” said Holly. “We have thirty minutes to get this little guy to the LEP before the spittle loosens up.”
    Mulch peered over her shoulder toward the mouth of the lane. He turned suddenly pale underneath his coating of wet earth, and his beard hair bristled nervously.
    “You know something, partner,” he said. “I don’t think we’re going to need thirty