Root shook his head rapidly, recovering himself.

'OK, Captain Short. Looks like you get your chance. You're running hot, I take it?'

'Yes, sir,' lied Holly, all too aware that Root would suspend her immediately if he knew she'd neglected the Ritual.

'Good. Then sign yourself out a side-arm and proceed to the target area.'

Holly glanced at the viewscreen. Scopes were sending high-res shots of an Italian fortified town. A red dot was moving rapidly through the countryside towards the human population.

'Do a thorough reconnaissance and report in. Do not attempt a retrieval. Is that understood?'

'Yessir.'

'We lost six men to troll attacks last quarter. Six men. That was below ground, in familiar territory.'

'I understand, sir.'

Root pursed his lips doubtfully.

'Do you understand, Short? Do you really?'

'I think so, sir.'

'Have you ever seen what a troll can do to flesh and bone?'

'No, sir. Not up close.'

'Good. Let's not make today your first time.'

'Understood.'

Root glared at her. 'I don't know why it is, Captain Short, but whenever you start agreeing with me, I get decidedly nervous.'

Root was right to be nervous. If he'd known how this straightforward Recon assignment was going to turn out, he would probably have retired there and then. Tonight, history was going to be made. And it wasn't the discovery-of-radium, first-man-on-the-moon happy kind of history. It was the Spanish-Inquisition, here-comes-the-Hindenburg bad kind of history. Bad for humans and fairies. Bad for everyone.