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ARTEMIS FOWL is the book that caused a sensation months before it was even A series of networked AppleMacs whirred from various corners of the room. Artemis Fowl 1 - Artemis Fowl · Read more · Artemis Fowl, Book 1. Read more Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl 01 - Artemis Fowl · Read more. Artemis Fowl · THE ARCTIC Incident · The Eternity Code · The Opal Deception · The Lost Colony · The Time Paradox · The Atlantis Complex · The Last Gaurdian .
The book, originally expected to be published in the UK and Ireland on September 7 , was shipped to stores early. Artemis Fowl: Preceded by Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code and followed by Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony, it is centered on the brilliant pixie Opal Koboi's second try at rebellion after her first attem Artemis Fowl is a young-adult fantasy novel written by Irish author Eoin Colfer. It is the first book in the Artemis Fowl series, being followed by Artemis Fowl:
Epub electronic conclusion of the e book complete ebook analysis record by site site stuff Artemis Fowl Artemis Fowl, 1 by Eoin Colfer. Artemis Fowl: Eoin Colfer:. Colfer, Eoin; Subject. Shop with confidence on site! Skip to main content. Shop by category.. See all 6. In this sequel to Artemis Fowl. Books that earned the Kirkus Star with publication dates between November 1, ,. Artemis Fowl Chapter 1: Sweltering by anyone's standards. Once again, he must stop the human and fairy worlds from colliding—only this time, Artemis faces an enemy who may have finally outsmarted him.
Review the code on the bottom of the pages says the following: A recruitment letter from the centaur Foaly, technical consultant, to the lower elements police.
Trsuted ally, If you have decoded this gnommish message, then you are a deputy officer in the lower elements police. You will not be aware of this fact because it is the custom of the LEP to mindwipe oour human allies. We do this so they cannot remember being recruited. If you cannot remember the fairy people or our underground city, then you cannot betray our existance to the greedy humans.
Of course, not all humans are greedy. You, deputy, are a noble member of your species. And clever too. We only recruit the best. Our intellegence department has studied your file and concluded that you were suitable for LEP membership. At the moment, you are only a deputy officer.
Artemis was convinced that news of his father's rescue would come from there. Shutting it down meant that he was finally letting go. Artemis cracked his knuckles. Time to do what he did best - plot dastardly acts. Nothing unusual about this. Leprechauns in general were not known for their geniality. But Holly was in an exceptionally bad mood, even for a fairy. Technically she was an elf, fairy being a general term. She was a leprechaun too, but that was just a job.
Perhaps a description would be more helpful than a lecture on fairy genealogy. Holly Short had nut-brown skin, cropped auburn hair and hazel eyes. Her nose had a hook and her mouth was plump and cherubic, which was appropriate considering that Cupid was her greatgrandfather. Her mother was a European elf with a fiery temper and a willowy figure.
Holly, too, had a slim frame, with long tapered fingers perfect for wrapping around a buzz baton. Her ears, of course, were pointed. At exactly one metre in height, Holly was only a centimetre below the fairy average, but even one centimetre can make an awful lot of difference when you don't have many to spare. Commander Root was the cause of Holly's distress. Root had been on Holly's case since day one.
The commander had decided to take offence at the fact that the first female officer in Recon's history had been assigned to his squad. Recon was a notoriously dangerous posting with a high fatality rate, and Root didn't think it was any place for a girlie.
Well, he was just going to have to get used to the idea, because Holly Short had no intention of quitting for him or anybody else. Though she'd never admit it, another possible cause for Holly's irritability was the Ritual. She'd been meaning to perform it for several moons now, but somehow there just never seemed to be time. And if Root found out she was running low on magic, she'd be transferred to Traffic for sure. Holly rolled off her futon and stumbled into the shower.
That was one advantage of living near the earth's core - the water was always hot. No natural light, of course, but that was a small price to pay for privacy. The last human-free zone. There was nothing like coming home after a long day on the job, switching off your shield and sinking into a bubbling slime pool. The fairy suited up, zipping the dull-green jumpsuit up to her chin and strapping on her helmet.
LEPrecon uniforms were smart these days. Not like that top-o'-the-morning costume the force had had to wear back in the old days. Buckled shoes and knickerbockers!
No wonder leprechauns were such ridiculous figures in human folklore. Still, probably better that way. If the Mud People knew that the word 'leprechaun' actually originated from LEPrecon, an elite branch of the Lower Elements Police, they'd probably take steps to stamp them out.
Better to stay inconspicuous and let the humans have their stereotypes. With the moon already rising on the surface, there was no time for a proper breakfast. Holly grabbed the remains of a nettle smoothie from the cooler and drank it in the tunnels. As usual there was chaos in the main thoroughfare. Airborne sprites jammed the avenue like stones in a bottle.
The gnomes weren't helping either, lumbering along with their big swinging behinds blocking two lanes. Swear toads infested every damp patch, cursing like sailors. That particular breed began as a joke but had multiplied into an epidemic. Someone lost their wand over that one. Holly Holly battled through the crowds to the police station. There was already a riot outside Spud's Spud Emporium. LEP Corporal Newt was trying to sort it out. Good luck to him. At least Holly got the chance to work above ground.
The LEP station doors were crammed with protesters. Holly snorted. If there actually was an innocent goblin, Holly Short had yet to meet him. They were clogging up the cells now, howling gang chants and hurling fireballs at each other. Holly shouldered her way into the throng. He can't sleep without it. Once upon a time the uniform would have earned you some respect. Not any more. Now you were a target. She had troubles of her own. More than she knew, as she was about to find out.
In the station lobby, a kleptomaniac dwarf was busy picking the pockets of everyone else in the booking line, including the officer he was handcuffed to. Holly gave him a swipe in the backside with her buzz baton. The electric charge singed the seat of his leather trousers. It's my nature. And it's our nature to throw you in a cell for a couple of centuries. Holly forged past Root's office, hoping she would make it to her cubicle before Ah well.
Here we go again. Holly Stowing her helmet under her arm, Holly smoothed the creases from her uniform and stepped into Commander Root's office. Root's face was purple with rage. This was more or less his general state of existence, a fact that had earned him the nickname 'Beetroot'. There was an office pool running on how long he had before his heart exploded. The smart money was on half a century, at the outside. Commander Root was tapping the moonometer on his wrist.
She was barely a minute late. There were at least a dozen officers on this shift who hadn't even reported in yet. But Root always singled her out for persecution. Get up a few minutes earlier! Holly Short was a city elf born and bred. Since the humans began experimenting with mineral drilling, more and more fairies had been driven out of the shallow forts and into the depth and security of Haven City.
The metropolis was overcrowded and under-serviced. And now there was a lobby to allow automobiles in the pedestrianized city centre. As if the place wasn't smelly enough already with all those country gnomes lumbering around the place.
Root was right. She should get up a bit earlier. But she wouldn't. Not until everybody else was forced to. Why don't I ever bawl out those other layabouts? She knew it! You are a test case. A beacon. There are a million fairies out there watching your every move.
There are a lot of hopes riding on you. But there is a lot of prejudice against you too. The future of law enforcement is in your hands. And at the moment, I'd say it was a little heavy. Root had never said anything like this before.
Usually it was just 'Fix your helmet', 'Stand up straight', blah blah blah. Holly 'You have to be the best you can be, Short, and that has to be better than anybody else. Ever since that Hamburg affair. The Hamburg affair had been a total disaster.
One of her perps had skipped out to the surface and tried to bargain with the Mud People for asylum. Root had to stop time, call in the Retrieval Squad, and do four memory wipes. A lot of police time wasted.
All her fault. The commander took a form from his desk. I've made up my mind. I'm putting you on Traffic and bringing in Corporal Frond. An airhead. You can't make her the test case! Why shouldn't I? You have never given me your best Either that or your best just isn't good enough.
Sorry, Short, you had your chance The meeting was over. Holly could only stand there, aghast. She'd blown it. The best career opportunity she was ever likely to get and she'd tossed it in the gutter. One mistake and her future was past. It wasn't fair. Holly felt an uncharacteristic anger take hold of her, but she swallowed it.
This was no time to lose her temper. I feel I deserve one more chance. It speaks for itself, apart from the Hamburg thing. Ten successful recons. Not a single memory wipe or time-stop, apart from Holly took a chance. 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.
Holly 'Yep,' said caller two. Southern Italy. No shield. An unshielded fairy could be seen by mortal eyes. That wasn't so bad if the perp was humanoid. 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.
Root shook his head rapidly, recovering himself. Looks like you get your chance. You're running hot, I take it? Then sign yourself out a side-arm and proceed to the target area. 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 not attempt a retrieval.
Is that understood? Six men. That was below ground, in familiar territory. Do you really? Not up close. Let's not make today your first time. Holly Root glared at her.
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. Holly proceeded directly to the chutes.
Her normally chatty mouth was a grim slash of determination. One chance, that was it. She would allow nothing to break her concentration. There was the usual queue of holiday visa hopefuls stretching to the corner of Elevator Plaza, but Holly bypassed it by waving her badge at the waiting line. A truculent gnome refused to yield. What's so special about you?
Courtesy at all times. Now if you could just excuse me. That's what I hear. What actually formed on her lips resembled a lemonsucking grimace. Recon venture only above ground when absolutely necessary. Obviously he had made up the rumour himself and suspected that Holly might have just called him an idiot.
By the time he'd figured it out, she had skipped through the double doors. Foaly was waiting for her in Ops. Foaly was a paranoid centaur, convinced that human intelligence agencies were monitoring his transport and surveillance network.
To prevent them reading his mind, he wore a tinfoil hat at all times. He glanced up sharply when Holly entered through the pneumatic double doors. Oh and the EIB. Holly Foaly rose from his swivel chair and clip-clopped over to her. A regular riot. I thought the Hamburg affair might have knocked some of the cockiness out of you. If I were you, I'd concentrate on the job in hand. He was right. Fill me in. He's moving towards Martina Franca, a fortified town near the city of Brindisi.
As far as we can tell, he stumbled into vent E7. It was on cool-down after a surface shot, that's why the troll isn't crispy barbecue right now.
Charming, she thought. He chewed on a couple of cows for an hour or two, so that bought us a bit of time. Fully grown. One hundred and eighty kilos, with tusks like a wild boar. A really wild boar. Suddenly Recon seemed a much better job than Retrieval. What have you got for me? He selected what looked like a rectangular wristwatch.
You find him, we find you. Routine stuff. Nuclear battery. No time limit. The mike is voice-activated. Just in case. He picked a platinum handgun from the pile.
The latest model. Even the tunnel gangs don't have these. Three settings, if you don't mind. Scorched, well done and crisped to a cinder. Nuclear power source too, so plug away. This baby will outlive you by a thousand years.
I think. Holly Foaly chuckled. No one's ever really ready for a troll. Maybe it was because she had a sneaking suspicion that Foaly was right.
The pressure elevators were powered by gaseous columns vented from the earth's core. The LEP tech boys, under Foaly's guidance, had fashioned titanium eggs that could ride on the currents. They had their own independent motors, but for an express ride to the surface there was nothing like the blast from a tidal flare.
Foaly led her past a long line of chute bays to E7. The pod sat in its clamp, looking very fragile to be rocketing about on magma streams.
Its underside was charred black and pockmarked from shrapnel. The centaur slapped it fondly on a fender. Oldest model still in the chutes. The chutes made her nervous enough without riding in an antique. The pod was not built for comfort. There was barely enough space for a restraining seat among the jumble of electronics. Foaly shuffled uncomfortably.
We had a pressure leak on the last mission. But that's plugged now. And the officer lived. Down a few IQ points, but alive, and he can still take liquids.
Foaly strapped the harness on to her, checking the restraints thoroughly. Foaly tapped her helmet mike. Holly Don't think about it, Holly told herself. Don't think about the white-hot magma flow that's going to engulf this tiny craft. Don't think about hurtling towards the surface with a MACH 2 force trying to turn you inside-out. And certainly don't think about the blood-crazed troll ready to disembowel you with his tusks.
Don't think about any of that stuff Too late. Foaly's voice sounded in her earpiece. You never know. An oil tanker from the Middle East intercepted a transmission one time. What a mess that was. My life is in your hands here. OK, sorry. We're going to use the rail to drop you into E7's main shaft, there's a surge due any minute.
That should see you past the first hundred klicks, then you're on your own. Fire it up. The tiny craft jostled in its housing, shaking Holly like a bead in a rattle. She could barely hear Foaly speaking into her ear. Get ready to fly, Short. No good having a radio if you've swallowed your tongue. She activated the external cameras and put the view on screen.
The entrance to E7 was creeping towards her. The air was shimmering in the landing-light glow. White-hot sparks tumbled into the secondary shaft. Holly couldn't hear the roar, but she could imagine it.
A raw skinning wind like a million trolls howling. Her fingers tightened around the joysticks. The pod shuddered to a halt at the lip. The chute stretched above and below. Like dropping an ant down a drainpipe. Rollercoasters ain't got nothing on this. She couldn't speak, not with the rubber in her mouth. The centaur would be able to see her in the podcam anyway.
The pod's clamp tilted, rolling Holly into the abyss. Her stomach tightened as G-force took hold, dragging her to the centre of the earth. The seismology section had a million probes down here, with a But there was always that point two per cent. The fall seemed to last for an eternity. And just when Holly had mentally consigned herself to the scrap heap, she felt it. That unforgettable vibration. The feeling that, outside her tiny sphere, the whole world was being shaken apart.
Here it comes. Holly 'Fins,' she said, spitting the word around the cylinder. Foaly may have replied, she couldn't hear him any more. Holly couldn't even hear herself, but she did see the stabilization fins slide out on the monitor. The flare caught her like a hurricane, spinning the pod at first until the fins caught. Halfmelted rocks pelted the craft's underside, jolting it towards the chute walls.
Holly compensated with bursts from the joysticks. The heat was tremendous in the confined space, enough to fry a human. But fairy lungs are made of stronger stuff. The acceleration dragged at her body with invisible hands, stretching the flesh over her arms and face. Holly blinked salty sweat from her eyes and concentrated on the monitor. The flare had totally engulfed her pod, and it was a big one too. Force seven at the very least. A good metre girth.
Orange-striped magma swirled and hissed around her, searching for a weak point in the metal casing. The pod groaned and complained, fifty-year-old rivets threatening to pop. Holly shook her head. The first thing she was going to do on her return was kick Foaly straight in the hairy behind. She felt like a nut inside a shell, between a gnome's molars. A bow plate buckled, popped in as though punched by a giant fist.
The pressure light blinked on. Holly could feel her head being squeezed. The eyes would be first to go - popping like ripe berries. She checked the dials.
Twenty more seconds before she rode out the flare and was running on thermals. Those twenty seconds seemed like an age. Holly sealed the helmet to protect her eyes, riding out the final barrage of rocks. And suddenly they were clear, sailing upwards on the comparatively gentle spirals of hot air. Holly added her own thrusters to the upward force.
No time to waste floating around on the wind. Above her, a circle of neon lights marked the docking zone. Holly swivelled horizontal and pointed the docking nodes at the lights. This was delicate. Many Recon pilots had made it this far, only to miss the port and lose valuable time. Not Holly. She was a natural. First in the academy. She gave the thrusters one final squeeze and coasted the last hundred metres.
Using the rudders beneath her feet, she teased the pod through the circle of light and into its clamp on the landing pad. The nodes revolved, settling into their grooves.
Holly smacked herself on the chest, releasing the safety harness. Once the door seal was open, sweet surface air flooded the cabin. There was nothing like that first breath after a ride in the chutes. She breathed deeply, purging the stale pod air from her lungs. How had the People ever left the surface? Sometimes she wished that her ancestors had stayed to fight it out with the Mud People, but there were too many of them. Unlike fairies, who could produce only a single child every twenty years, Mud People bred like rodents.
Numbers would subdue even magic. Holly Although she was enjoying the night air, Holly could taste traces of pollutants. The Mud People destroyed everything they came into contact with.
Of course they didn't live in the mud any more. Not in this country, at least. Oh no. Big fancy dwellings with rooms for everything - rooms for sleeping, rooms for eating, even a room to go to the toilet! Holly shuddered. Imagine going to the toilet inside your own house. The only good thing about going to the toilet was the minerals being returned to the earth, but the Mud People had even managed to botch that up by treating the If anyone had told her a hundred years ago that humans would be taking the fertile out of fertilizer, she would have told them to get some air holes drilled in their skull.