do. Volcanic activity, gas leaks, chemical accidents. Believe me, if there’s one thing the Mud Men do know, it’s how to explain away an explosion. The Americans invented Area 51 just because a senator crashed a jet into a mountain.”
“The mainland is safe?”
“Should be. A little shrapnel, maybe.”
Holly relaxed, hanging from her wings. There was nothing she could do, nothing she should do. This was a natural process, and the kraken had every right to shed its shell.
Methane explosions. Mulch would love this.
Mulch Diggums was currently running a private investigations office in Haven with the pixie wheel-fairy Doodah Day. Mulch had, in his day, caused some methane disturbances himself.
Something pulsed gently in Holly’s visor. A plasma splotch of red in the thermal sweep windows. There was life on the island, and not just insect or rodent. Multiple humans.
“Foaly. I have something.”
Holly resized the window with a series of blink commands to track down the source. There were four hot bodies inside the sauna.
“ Inside the sauna, Foaly. How did we miss them?”
“Their bodies were at the same temperature as the brick walls,” replied the centaur. “I’m guessing that one of the Mud Men opened the door.”
Holly magnified her visor to plus four and saw that the sauna door was open a crack, a wedge of steam pushing through the gap. The building was cooling faster than the humans, and so now they showed up separately on her scanner.
“What are those Mud Men doing here? You said nothing opens until eight.”
“I don’t know, Holly. How would I know? They’re humans. About as reliable as moon-mad demons.”
It didn’t matter why the humans were there, and wondering about it was a waste of time.
“I have to go back, Foaly.”
Foaly put a camera on himself, broadcasting his live image to Holly’s helmet.
“Look at my face, Holly. Do you see this expression? This is my stern face. Do not do it, Holly. Do not return to the island. Humans die every day, and we do not interfere. The LEP never interferes.”
“I know the rules,” said Holly, muting the growling centaur.
There goes my career again, she thought, angling her wings for a steep dive.
Four men sat in the sauna’s outer room, feeling very smug that they had once again outwitted island authorities and managed to sneak a free sauna before work. It did help that one of the men was Uunisaari’s security guard and had access to the keys, and a little five horsepower punt that accommodated the four friends, and a bucket of Karjala beer.
“Good temperature in the sauna today,” said one.
A second wiped the steam from his glasses. “A little hot, I thought. In fact, even here it feels hot underfoot.”
“Go jump in the Baltic, then,” said the guard, miffed at this lack of appreciation for his efforts. “That will cool down your poor toesies.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” said the fourth man, fastening his watch. “He has sensitive feet. Always some temperature problem.”
The men, friends since childhood, laughed and swigged their beers. The laughing and swigging ceased abruptly when a section of the roof suddenly caught fire and disintegrated.
The guard coughed out a mouthful of beer. “Was someone smoking? I said no smoking!”
Even if one of his sauna buddies had answered, the guard would not have heard, as he had somehow managed to fly through the hole in the roof.
“My toes are really hot,” said the bespectacled man as if hanging on to old topics of conversation could make new ones go away.
The others ignored him, busy doing what men generally do in dangerous times: putting on their trousers.
There was no time for introductions or doors, so Holly drew her Neutrino sidearm and carved a six-foot hole in the roof. She was treated to the sight of four pale, semi-dressed Mud Men quivering in sudden fright.
I’m not surprised they’re quivering, she thought. And that’s only the beginning.
As she
“The mainland is safe?”
“Should be. A little shrapnel, maybe.”
Holly relaxed, hanging from her wings. There was nothing she could do, nothing she should do. This was a natural process, and the kraken had every right to shed its shell.
Methane explosions. Mulch would love this.
Mulch Diggums was currently running a private investigations office in Haven with the pixie wheel-fairy Doodah Day. Mulch had, in his day, caused some methane disturbances himself.
Something pulsed gently in Holly’s visor. A plasma splotch of red in the thermal sweep windows. There was life on the island, and not just insect or rodent. Multiple humans.
“Foaly. I have something.”
Holly resized the window with a series of blink commands to track down the source. There were four hot bodies inside the sauna.
“ Inside the sauna, Foaly. How did we miss them?”
“Their bodies were at the same temperature as the brick walls,” replied the centaur. “I’m guessing that one of the Mud Men opened the door.”
Holly magnified her visor to plus four and saw that the sauna door was open a crack, a wedge of steam pushing through the gap. The building was cooling faster than the humans, and so now they showed up separately on her scanner.
“What are those Mud Men doing here? You said nothing opens until eight.”
“I don’t know, Holly. How would I know? They’re humans. About as reliable as moon-mad demons.”
It didn’t matter why the humans were there, and wondering about it was a waste of time.
“I have to go back, Foaly.”
Foaly put a camera on himself, broadcasting his live image to Holly’s helmet.
“Look at my face, Holly. Do you see this expression? This is my stern face. Do not do it, Holly. Do not return to the island. Humans die every day, and we do not interfere. The LEP never interferes.”
“I know the rules,” said Holly, muting the growling centaur.
There goes my career again, she thought, angling her wings for a steep dive.
Four men sat in the sauna’s outer room, feeling very smug that they had once again outwitted island authorities and managed to sneak a free sauna before work. It did help that one of the men was Uunisaari’s security guard and had access to the keys, and a little five horsepower punt that accommodated the four friends, and a bucket of Karjala beer.
“Good temperature in the sauna today,” said one.
A second wiped the steam from his glasses. “A little hot, I thought. In fact, even here it feels hot underfoot.”
“Go jump in the Baltic, then,” said the guard, miffed at this lack of appreciation for his efforts. “That will cool down your poor toesies.”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” said the fourth man, fastening his watch. “He has sensitive feet. Always some temperature problem.”
The men, friends since childhood, laughed and swigged their beers. The laughing and swigging ceased abruptly when a section of the roof suddenly caught fire and disintegrated.
The guard coughed out a mouthful of beer. “Was someone smoking? I said no smoking!”
Even if one of his sauna buddies had answered, the guard would not have heard, as he had somehow managed to fly through the hole in the roof.
“My toes are really hot,” said the bespectacled man as if hanging on to old topics of conversation could make new ones go away.
The others ignored him, busy doing what men generally do in dangerous times: putting on their trousers.
There was no time for introductions or doors, so Holly drew her Neutrino sidearm and carved a six-foot hole in the roof. She was treated to the sight of four pale, semi-dressed Mud Men quivering in sudden fright.
I’m not surprised they’re quivering, she thought. And that’s only the beginning.
As she
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