"No, but there are Brownies at Heart’s Ease. Lannach and his people, the ones I rescued in the Wild Wood."
The hedge witch nodded. "They are in your debt then. It is worth a try, yes."
The brownies arrived the next day, brought along the Wizard’s Way by Malus.
"We are here, Lord," Lannach said, hopping down from Malus’s pack onto the table and bowing deeply.
Wiz bowed back to the little manlike creature. "Thanks, Lannach. If you can help us we’d really appreciate it."
Behind Lannach, Breachean, Loaghaire and Fleagh jumped down to the table. Then Meoan climbed out of the pack and Brechean and Fleagh helped her down.
Wiz’s eyebrows went up. "Meoan too?"
The little woman looked up. "Am I unwelcome then, Lord?"
"No, not at all. I just thought you’d stay at Heart’s Ease with your baby."
"Lord," Meoan said gravely, "we owe you our lives. Small we may be, and with scant powers. But we do not forget our debts."
"Well, if you can keep these little bleeders under control you can consider the debt paid in full."
" ’Twere best we were about it then," Lannach said.
While Wiz and the others watched from across the computer room, Lannach knelt by a ventilation grill in the base of the console. He called out in a language that sounded like an excited mouse. Then he cocked his head and listened intently.
Although Wiz heard nothing, Lannach apparently got a reply. While Wiz and the other humans fidgeted Lannach conducted a long and seemingly involved conversation in mouse-squeak. Finally he stood up and dusted his hands on his moleskin breeches.
"Your device is inhabited, Lord," he reported, hopping up on the table next to Wiz.
"We know that."
"They thank you most gratefully. They say they have never seen a more fitting home for their kind."
"So we’ve got seven of them living in there?"
The brownie’s tiny face creased in a frown. "Seven? Oh no, many more than that, I think."
"We only saw seven."
"Ah, well they are shy creatures so doubtless you did not see them all. Besides, they multiply quickly when they are in a place to their liking."
"Look, we don’t mind them living here, but we can’t have them interfering with our work. Is there any way to keep them in line?"
The little creature shook his head. "We can try, Lord. But they are flighty and chancy beings. They will not keep their word even if they can remember from one minute to the next what they have sworn to."
"I don’t suppose a repulsion spell like ddt would do any good?" Wiz asked hopefully.
"Little, I fear," Lannach said. "As you may know, Lord, non-mortals differ in their susceptibility to such things. These are especially resistant. They are hard to dissuade and they would even be hard to kill by magic."
"Great," Wiz muttered.
"We can do this, Lord. If my kin and I work together we can probably dissuade them from their worst mischief."
"That would be something anyway," Wiz sighed. "Okay, Lannach. Do your best. Meanwhile Moira will show you your quarters and fix you up with something to eat."
"We have a place for you in the kitchen," Moira said as she led the gaggle of brownies out the door, "and bowls of milk for you all."
"Wonderful," Wiz said as the brownies left. "We got cockroaches. Insecticide-resistant cockroaches."
"Just think of it as working with beta version hardware," Jerry said helpfully.
Wiz glared at him. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"No, it just puts the problem in perspective."
Wiz groaned.
Twenty-four: AIR INTERCEPT
Ozzie Sharp drained the last of his cold coffee and paced down the line of radar and communications operators. He briefly considered going forward and getting another cup, but his tongue felt like it had grown fur, his stomach was starting to go sour and the combination of the coffee and the cabin noise of the aircraft was making his bladder twinge already. Better save it until he needed the caffeine.
He looked for a place to set down the cup, but most of the flat, stable surfaces in an AWACS aircraft are for work. He kept the cup clenched in his brown fingers and turned his attention back to the radar displays.
Ozzie wasn’t a big man, but he was built like a fireplug. There were traces of gray in his curly black hair, but he still moved in a way that suggested that if there was a brick wall between him and where he wanted to be it was too damn bad for the wall. Like the crew, he wore a dark blue Air Force flight suit. But there was no insignia of rank on Ozzie Sharp’s flight suit because he had no rank.
"Anything?" he asked the operator at the end of the line.
"Not a thing," the operator said, never taking his eyes off the screen. The operator didn’t add "sir" and Sharp understood the significance of that perfectly.
Well, fuck ’em. Ozzie Sharp had been sent here from Washington because he was one of the best trouble shooters in the agency. This was trouble and he meant to get to the bottom of it.
So far he was just a passenger. The general had set this operation up before he arrived and all Ozzie had to do was ride along. The general might be content to command from the ground, but Ozzie Sharp wanted to be where the action was.
The AWACS was further west than usual. Whatever was out there was tricky. Moving the plane out over the Bering Sea made it easier to burn through the jamming and pick up the weak radar returns.
Orbiting nearby were two F-15 Eagles with conformal fuel tanks for extra range and Sparrow and Sidewinder missiles to deal with whatever they encountered. Perhaps more importantly, the fighters also carried a variety of sensors including special video cameras to record what they found.
Back at the base were more Eagles, two KC-10 tankers on alert, and another AWACS, ready to take up station when this group reached the end of their endurance. They had been doing this for four days now, but no one was getting bored.
The operator, a skinny kid with a shock of dark hair, turned to his passenger and tapped his screen. "Ivan’s out in force today."
"What’s that?"
The radar operator grinned. "Our opposite number. An Illuyshin 76 AWACS."
"Observing a test?"
The operator shrugged. "Maybe. But if I had to guess I’d say they’re looking for something in that fog bank-just like us."
"With just the AWACS?"
"Nossir, that’s not their style. But they like to hold their interceptors on the ground until they’ve got a target and then come in like gangbusters. Their birds are probably faster than ours but they don’t have the range."