short of breath by the time we got there. The halls and passageways were increasingly deserted and abandoned, eerily silent. It was a relief to get to Operations, and hear voices talking in a calm, professional way. The Ops Room is a high-tech centre designed to oversee all the Hall’s defences, from sensors to shields to all our various weapons systems. It took the three of us a few minutes to get through the strict security protocols, and then Molly and the Armourer and I hurried into Operations and the great steel door hissed shut behind us, cutting off the clamour of the alarms. The quiet was a blessed relief, and I took a long, deep breath to steady myself.
I’d never been to Operations before; it was mostly put together after I left home. Unlike the War Room, Operations is a much more modest affair. Just a reasonably sized room packed full of computers and other assorted baffling high tech, tended by a dozen or so technicians, under the head of Operations. There was no hurry or bustle or sense of urgency here; men and women sat calmly at their workstations, doing their jobs efficiently and professionally. These people hadn’t forgotten what it was to be a Drood. They kept their heads in an emergency because that was what had been drilled into them; because decisions made in this Room could affect the safety of the whole family.
Holographic displays snapped on and off in midair, showing rapidly shifting images of the Hall, inside and out, and sweeping views of the grounds and all possible approaches to the Hall. I moved quickly from screen to screen, but I was damned if I could see any sign of an invading force anywhere. The skies were empty, the grounds were uninhabited, and all shields were intact and in place. Something must have set off the alarms, but what? I headed for the centre of Operations, and Molly and the Armourer fell naturally in on either side of me. I was glad to have them there. I was starting to feel well out of my depth. I listened carefully to the murmur of voices all around me as the technicians spoke quietly to each other in calm, professional, and utterly baffled voices.
I have rising power levels. All boards are green, all weapons systems on line
.
Can anybody see anything
?
My sensors are clear, right across the board
.
Hold it; I’m getting something. A definite Infernal presence
.
Infernal
?
Are you sure
?
Hey, it’s not something you can easily confuse with anything else. There’s something from the Pit, right here in our backyard
.
Get ready to switch the lawn sprinklers to holy water. And somebody put in a call to all our clerics
.
Code Red. I repeat, we have Code Red. Shutting down all unnecessary systems for the duration
.
Why weren’t we warned
?
What happened to those wonderful and very expensive new sensors I spent all last week installing
?
Silent as the grave, the lot of them. Whatever’s out there, the sensors can’t see it. Even the gryphons didn’t see this coming
.
Who’s got my Jaffa Cakes
?
You know I can’t function without Jaffa Cakes
.
All weapons systems on line and available. Just find me a target and I’ll blow big meaty chunks out of it
.
“Over there,” the Armourer said quietly in my ear. “See that large, intense type in the button-down suit? That’s Howard, the new head of Operations. I used to have him down in the Armoury with me, but he didn’t have the patience. But he was a hell of a lot smarter than the average Drood, so we put him here, and within a year he was running the place. Oh look; he’s finally deigned to notice us, and he’s coming over. This should be fun.”
“Didn’t this use to be the old laundry?” I said.
“We contracted that out,” said the Armourer, “to make room for the new up-to-date Operations centre. The old one was constantly having to be upgraded, and was only held together with spit and sealing wax anyway. We’ve spent the last ten years installing the most sophisticated weapon systems this
I’d never been to Operations before; it was mostly put together after I left home. Unlike the War Room, Operations is a much more modest affair. Just a reasonably sized room packed full of computers and other assorted baffling high tech, tended by a dozen or so technicians, under the head of Operations. There was no hurry or bustle or sense of urgency here; men and women sat calmly at their workstations, doing their jobs efficiently and professionally. These people hadn’t forgotten what it was to be a Drood. They kept their heads in an emergency because that was what had been drilled into them; because decisions made in this Room could affect the safety of the whole family.
Holographic displays snapped on and off in midair, showing rapidly shifting images of the Hall, inside and out, and sweeping views of the grounds and all possible approaches to the Hall. I moved quickly from screen to screen, but I was damned if I could see any sign of an invading force anywhere. The skies were empty, the grounds were uninhabited, and all shields were intact and in place. Something must have set off the alarms, but what? I headed for the centre of Operations, and Molly and the Armourer fell naturally in on either side of me. I was glad to have them there. I was starting to feel well out of my depth. I listened carefully to the murmur of voices all around me as the technicians spoke quietly to each other in calm, professional, and utterly baffled voices.
I have rising power levels. All boards are green, all weapons systems on line
.
Can anybody see anything
?
My sensors are clear, right across the board
.
Hold it; I’m getting something. A definite Infernal presence
.
Infernal
?
Are you sure
?
Hey, it’s not something you can easily confuse with anything else. There’s something from the Pit, right here in our backyard
.
Get ready to switch the lawn sprinklers to holy water. And somebody put in a call to all our clerics
.
Code Red. I repeat, we have Code Red. Shutting down all unnecessary systems for the duration
.
Why weren’t we warned
?
What happened to those wonderful and very expensive new sensors I spent all last week installing
?
Silent as the grave, the lot of them. Whatever’s out there, the sensors can’t see it. Even the gryphons didn’t see this coming
.
Who’s got my Jaffa Cakes
?
You know I can’t function without Jaffa Cakes
.
All weapons systems on line and available. Just find me a target and I’ll blow big meaty chunks out of it
.
“Over there,” the Armourer said quietly in my ear. “See that large, intense type in the button-down suit? That’s Howard, the new head of Operations. I used to have him down in the Armoury with me, but he didn’t have the patience. But he was a hell of a lot smarter than the average Drood, so we put him here, and within a year he was running the place. Oh look; he’s finally deigned to notice us, and he’s coming over. This should be fun.”
“Didn’t this use to be the old laundry?” I said.
“We contracted that out,” said the Armourer, “to make room for the new up-to-date Operations centre. The old one was constantly having to be upgraded, and was only held together with spit and sealing wax anyway. We’ve spent the last ten years installing the most sophisticated weapon systems this
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