She had to try

[darvit]

A shuttle bay, a tunnel connected to a magma chute to the surface. The walls are scattered with scorch marks from laser blasts, though there's no battle going on right now. There are three figures, here; one goblin, collapsed on his knees and clearly out of it, and two dark skinned elves, one the familiar slight form of Holly Short and the other a stouter, older man. The elves are huddled by a set of closed blast doors, talking in conspiratorial tones, before they seem to make a decision and stride back towards the goblin in the centre of the room.

On the centre of his chest, there's a small screen, attached to a set of eight telescoping cables that wrap around the goblin's torso. On the screen there's a pale, childlike face, but the malice in it betrays that this is no child. "Have we come up with a little plan? Something ingenious, I hope. Something I haven’t thought of?"

Holly's expression, in turn, betrays how unsure she is that they've done either of those things. Their plan is not ingenious, it's not something this woman wouldn't have thought of, it's just all they have.

"Sir..." she says, but the man is already moving towards the goblin. She has no choice but to do as planned. She fires six charges into the screen, all six impacting the pixie's face; the image disappears into a storm of static, and sparks squeeze between the metal seams, acrid smoke leaks through the speaker grid.

The man hesitates for just a moment, to let the charge disperse, then grabs the goblin. For a moment, nothing happens, and yet Holly doesn't relax. Not for a second. It's just too easy, there's no way—

Suddenly, the restraint wrapped around the goblin's chest whiplashes around the other elf's, squeezing down so tight that you can hear ribs crack under the pressure. The pixie's face reappears on the other side of the screen, bright with delighted malice.

"Commander root," she says, almost breathless, "It looks like you're the sacrifice."

"D'arvit!" Root swears, hitting at the box with his pistol. It does nothing. The cords just tighten, squeezing his breath out of him; more cracking sounds, and the blue sparks of magic dance around Root's chest trying to repair the damage.

Holly rushes forward to help, but before she can reach him, an urgent beeping begins to emanate from the device’s speaker. The closer she gets, the louder the beep.

"Stay back," Root grunts. "Stay back. It’s a trigger."

Holly stops in her sooty tracks, punching the air in frustration. He was right, and she knew it, and she hated it.

The pixie's face reappears on the screen. "Listen to your Julius, Captain Short. This is a moment for caution. Your commander is quite right: the tone you hear is indeed a proximity trigger. If you come too close, he will be vaporized by the explosive gel packed into the metal box."

"Stop lecturing and tell us what you want," Root snarls.

"Now, now, Commander, patience. Your worries will be over soon enough. In fact they are already over, so why don’t you just wait quietly while your final seconds tick away."

Holly circles, carefully keeping the beep constant, until her back is to the chute. "There’s a way out of this, Commander,” she said. “I just need to think. I need a minute to sort things out."

"Let me help you to sort things out," the Pixie mocks. "Your LEP comrades are currently trying to laser their way in here. Of course they will never make it in time. But you can bet that my old school chum, Foaly, is glued to his video screen. So what does he see? He sees his good friend Holly Short apparently holding a gun on her commander. Now why would she want to do that?"

"Foaly will figure it out. He beat you before," Root says, but as he does, a digital readout flickers to life on his chest: 60 seconds. It starts counting down as the bonds tighten and force him to his knees.

"Maybe he would figure it out at that. If he had time. But unfortunately for you, time is almost up. One minute to live, Commander. How does that feel?" the pixie says, snickering with a sick glee that makes Holly's shoulders tense.

"Shut it down, Koboi. Shut it down, or I swear I’ll…"

Koboi's laughter raises into an echoing crescendo, filling the tunnel like the attack screech of a harpy. "You will what? Exactly. Die beside your commander?"

More cracks. More ribs broken. The blue sparks of magic circle Root’s torso like stars caught in a whirlwind. Yet still, he grunts words, "Go now. Holly. I am ordering you to leave."

"With respect, Commander. No. This isn’t over yet."

"Forty-eight. Forty-seven."

"Holly! Go!"

"I’d listen if I were you," says Koboi. "There are other lives at stake. Root is already dead; why not save someone who can be saved?"

Holly groans, almost as if in pain. "Who can I save? Who’s in danger?"

"Oh, no one important. Just a couple of Mud Men," Koboi says, and Holly's face flashes with realisation. Recognition.

"What have you done, Opal?!"

Koboi’s lip droops, mimicking a guilty child. "I’m afraid I may have put your human friends in danger. At this very moment they are stealing a package from the International Bank in Munich. A little package I prepared for them. If Master Fowl is as clever as he is supposed to be, he won’t open the package until he reaches the Kronski Hotel and can check for booby traps. Then a biobomb will be activated, and bye-bye obnoxious humans. You can stay here and explain all this; I’m sure it won’t take more than a few hours to sort out with Internal Affairs. Or you can try to rescue your friends."

There's almost a disoriented look to Holly, now. So much information, so much stress. "I will hunt you down, Koboi. For you, there won’t be a safe inch on the planet."

"Such venom. What if I gave you a way out? One chance to win."

Root is on his knees now, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. The blue sparks are gone, he's out of magic, and every syllable gasped makes him wince. "It’s a trap. Don’t be fooled again."

"Thirty. Twenty-nine..."

"Okay," Holly breathes. "Okay, Koboi. Tell me quickly. How do I save the commander?"

Koboi takes a deep theatrical breath. "On the device. There’s a sweet spot. One inch diameter. The red dot below the screen. If you hit that spot from outside the trigger area, then you overload the circuit. If you miss, even by a hair, you set off the explosive gel. It’s a sporting chance; more than you gave me, Holly Short."

"You're lying." Holly grits her teeth. "Why would you give me a chance?"

"Don’t take the shot". Root is strangely calm, now. "Just get out of range. Go and save Artemis. That’s the last order I’ll ever give you, Captain. Don’t you dare ignore it."

Holly squeezes her eyes shut, as if trying to focus. Blinks as if trying to clear her sight, when she opens them again. "I don't have any choice, Julius."

Root frowns, "Don’t call me Julius! You always do that just before you disobey me. Save Artemis, Holly. Save him."

Holly closes one of her matching hazel eyes, taking aim. "I'll save Artemis next," she says, as she takes the shot.

It hits the red spot. It does. From an outside perspective, it's even more obvious than it was to her at the time as she shouts, "I hit it! I hit the spot!"

But Koboi just shrugs. "I don't know. I thought you were a fraction low. Hard luck. I mean that sincerely."

Holly's eyes widen, and she screams, "NO!" as the countdown speeds up.

The commander struggles up to his feet, every inch of movement a painful effort. He raises the visor on his helmet; his eyes are steady, and fearless, and the way he smiles at Holly there is no blame to be laid. There's just care, and admiration, and sadness.

"Be well," he says, and then explodes into a fireball, the shockwave throwing Holly back and up into the chute like a twig spinning in a cyclone.