'Commander Root, sir. I feel I deserve one more chance.'

Root didn't even look up from the paperwork. 'And why's that?'

Holly took a deep breath. 'Because of my record, sir. It speaks for itself, apart from the Hamburg thing. Ten successful recons. Not a single memory wipe or time-stop, apart from…'

'The Hamburg thing,' completed Root.

Holly took a chance. 'If I were a male — one of your precious sprites — we wouldn't even be having this conversation.'

Root glanced up sharply. 'Now, just a minute, Captain Short — '

He was interrupted by the bleeping of one of the phones on his desk. Then two, then three. A giant viewscreen crackled into life on the wall behind him.

Root jabbed the speaker button, putting all the callers on conference.

'Yes?'

'We've got a runner.'

Root nodded. 'Anything on Scopes?'

Scopes was the shop name for the shrouded trackers attached to American communications satellites.

'Yep,' said caller two. 'Big blip in Europe. Southern Italy. No shield.'

Root cursed. An unshielded fairy could be seen by mortal eyes.

That wasn't so bad if the perp was humanoid.

'Classification?'

'Bad news, Commander,' said the third caller. 'We got us a rogue troll.'

Root rubbed his eyes. Why did these things always happen on his watch? Holly could understand his frustration. Trolls were the meanest of the deep-tunnel creatures. They wandered the labyrinth, preying on anything unlucky enough to cross their path. Their tiny brains had no room for rules or restraint. Occasionally one found its way into the shaft of a pressure elevator. Usually the concentrated air current fried them, but sometimes one survived and was blasted to the surface. Driven crazy by pain and even the tiniest amount of light, they would generally proceed to destroy everything in their path.