by Simon Haynes
"Complying. Target located."
"We're not going to bomb it. I just want to land on it."
"Building located."
Green arrows appeared on the canopy, and Alice adjusted their course until they pointed dead ahead. In the distance, between the high-rise apartment blocks, she could see the squat, ugly shape of the Peace Force station. It was a mirror image of the Dismolle station, about three storeys high and built from thick concrete blocks. "We should probably get clearance," she said.
"Already done," said Arnie.
"Thanks." As they got closer she made out a faded yellow circle painted on the roof, indicating the landing pad. Green cross-hairs lined up on the centre, and Alice eased the stick over until they were directly ahead. Then, when they passed underneath, she cut the thrust and set them down with the tiniest of bumps.
"Nice flying, Arnie," said Harriet, from the rear seat.
"Thank you Harriet, but I was not flying."
"Alice!"
"What?" said Alice. "My ship, my rules. You don't like it, catch a cab."
"You don't even have a licence. You shouldn't be—"
"You forget, I grew up on ships," said Alice sharply. "I was eight when I landed my uncle's freighter for the first time."
"Was he even on board?"
"Yeah, but he was blind drunk and the docking computer went down." Alice undid her harness and got up. "Seriously, this thing is easy to fly. Even you could manage it."
"Ouch."
"I meant … you've never flown a ship before, and …" Alice gestured. "Oh, you know what I meant." She led the way to the airlock, and moments later they were standing on the wind-swept roof of the Peace Force building. It wasn't a promising sight: the place had been abandoned years earlier, and the parapet had collapsed in places, leaving big gaps and piles of rubble. There were broken bottles and tin cans too, and at first Alice thought people had been using the roof as a hangout. Then she glanced up at a nearby building, one of several overlooking the roof, and realised some of the residents had been throwing their empties off their balconies. She frowned at that. If anyone dented Arnie, she'd have words.
The elevator doors were half-open, and when Alice approached Harriet put a warning hand on her shoulder. Together they peered through the gap, and they realised they were looking three stories down to the top of the elevator car.
Alice tried pressing the button, but it was dead. "I guess we walk," she muttered.
They crossed to the access door leading to the stairwell, which was secured with a solid-looking padlock. "I could shoot it off," said Harriet doubtfully.
"No need," said Alice. She reached into her jacket and took out a small, U-shaped device, activating the contact. Immediately, a bright blue spark connected the open ends, and she swiped it across the hasp of the padlock. It went through the hardened metal with absolutely no resistance, and the padlock clattered to the floor.
"I thought that was supposed to be in the evidence room?" said Harriet.
"Just as well it isn't," said Alice shortly. She switched it off and tucked it away, then reached out and pulled on the door.
It didn't move.
She tugged harder, and then Harriet and Birch joined in. It gave a little, and then, with the bottom of the door grinding on the loose stones and grit, they managed to open it fully.
The stairwell was in pitch darkness, and as Alice peered over the railing she wondered what the Chirless station held in store for them all.
Chapter 8
Harriet peered over Alice's shoulder, looking down the stairwell. It was dark, but she could make out stacks of cardboard boxes lining the walls, leaving only a narrow passage to the ground floor.
Alice opened a nearby box and pulled out a wad of paperwork. "See, this is why Bernie shouldn't make me write essays. A few weeks from now, our station will be clogged like this one."
"They're the old records," said Birch.
"What, on paper?"
"Nobody ever hacked a printout," said Birch, with a shrug. "Computers, on the other hand … well, let's just say our Super hated the things."
"Do you know where the light switch is?" Harriet asked him.
"They were automatic in my day." Birch glanced up. "I'm guessing there's no power."
Alice raised one hand. "I vote hotel. Seconds?"
"We're checking this place out first," said Harriet firmly. "The power might just be down to a switch in the meter box."
Alice eyed the dusty cartons. "If the rest of the place looks like this, I'm sleeping in my ship."
"Can't we fly back to Dismolle?" asked Birch.
Harriet and Alice exchanged a glance. "Do you really want to ask Bernie for fuel money?" said Harriet at last.
"It's not that we'd run out," explained Alice. "But now that she's filled Arnie up, she's going to want it to last more than a couple of days."
"Oh. Let's go find the main power switch."
They took the stairs, stepping carefully around the stacks of boxes. As they got to the first landing, a dim light came on overhead, showing them the way. "That's encouraging," said Harriet.
"Not really," said Birch. "It's just a battery backup."
They reached the ground floor, and Harriet opened the stairwell door. They trooped into the main office and stopped. Not long ago, the Dismolle station had been damaged in an explosion. This was even worse. The emergency lights provided just enough illumination, and they revealed a litter of broken furniture, stripped computer terminals, and drifts of food wrappers and waste.
"It's not too bad," said Alice at last. "I mean, if you take away the broken desks, the graffiti …"
"Underneath all this, it looks just like our station," said Harriet.
"Smells like it too," remarked Alice.
Birch took a deep breath. "Ahh, that takes me back."
"To where?" said Alice, giving him a look. "The city dump?"
"It's that old Peace Force smell. You can't mistake it."
"I don't want to mistake it, I just want to avoid it." Alice angled a keyboard to the light, then dropped it hurriedly. "If Bernie asked me to type an essay on this, I'd quit on the spot."
"I'll find the power junction," said Birch, and he headed off to the entrance.
Meanwhile, Harriet grabbed a table and righted it. "See if you can find anything to sit on."
Alice went off to the staff room, and while she was gone Harriet went to the armoury. The door was open, and apart from a couple of moth-eaten jackets, it was bare. Before entering the station she'd been hoping to find something they could take back to Dismolle, but it looked like they were out of luck.
She went back to the office and dragged open the door to the garage. To her surprise there was a cruiser parked inside, and lying on the floor next to it was a familiar shape: a BNE-II crime-fighting robot. It was lying face-down, and Harriet ran over and crouched next to it. She reached out to turn it over, and sat down with a thump as the robot rolled over easily.
Too easily. The robot was only a shell, the insides long since stripped. Well, thought Harriet, it's not a complete loss. Bernie could probably use the panels for spares.
She turned her attention to the car, putting both hands to the dusty window to peer inside. It looked intact, and when she tried the door it opened smoothly. "Hello?" she said.
There was no reply.
Steve, the patrol car at the Dismolle station, usually activated whenever she went near him, but this one looked like it had been dormant for years. The inside was neat and tidy, unlike the rest of the station, and that pleased her. Someone had looked after the car, which made a nice change. Most Peace Force equipment seemed to get abused until it broke or wore out.
She glanced around the roomy garage, which appeared to double as a workshop. There was a workbench with a couple of pieces of machinery, all rusty and covered in dust and cobwebs, and the walls were lined with shelves. There were plastic tubs on the shelves, many of them cracked, and when she peered inside a coup
le she saw rusty metal parts whose use she could only guess at. Repairing the cruiser, perhaps? Or had someone rented the garage as a workshop after the Peace Force moved out?
Harriet wiped her rust-streaked hands on a piece of rag, idly patted the car on the roof, and returned to the office. Alice had found three chairs, and Birch was back from his power-enabling mission. Since the lights were still dim, Harriet assumed he'd had no luck.
"It's not the meter box," he said, confirming her suspicions. "The supply's been cut."
They all took a seat, and Harriet looked at Alice. "Right, you first. What happened?"
"I checked the shops out. One guy lied, told me nobody had been in, then changed his story when I told him we'd caught the crooks and were giving people their money back. He's the one that said they were coming back next week. Then I went into a furniture store, and the owner went ballistic. Started yelling at me to leave, said the people were due any second to pick up their cash." Alice shrugged. "Before I could leave, they drew up outside. I ducked out the way just as they came in, and I would have let them go, except they spotted me."
"So you started firing?"
"No! I told them they were under arrest. The guy ran for it, the woman looked like she was obeying, then chucked a jug at me. By the time I recovered they were gone. I ran outside, and fired at their van as they drove off."
"You might have hit someone," said Harriet quietly.
"I was trying to."
"I mean other people. Pedestrians."
"There wasn't anyone else. And I stopped firing as soon as they were out of range."
"You did well," said Harriet, with a nod.
"They won't take this lying down," warned Birch. "They'll want to crush us, and quickly. First they'll find us, then they'll spy on us to gauge our strength. If they find out there's only three of us, we're done."
Harriet eyed the others in concern. They'd come to Chirless to round up a couple of thugs, but things were escalating fast. "I'd better call Bernie and ask for reinforcements."
"Like that ever works," muttered Alice.
Birch leaned forward. "We don't have to beat them, we just have to make Chirless unattractive enough that they move on."
"They might move on to Dismolle. Or to some other planet where we can't get at them." Harriet shook her head. "No, we're going to arrest them all."
"I admire your confidence," said Birch, but he looked doubtful.
Harriet took out her commset and called their home station. Bernie answered immediately.
"Trainee Harriet. Have you rounded up the perpetrators already?"
"Not exactly, no. Look, we might be facing a bigger group than we expected. Can you get some reinforcements in?"
"No."
"You could pretend to think about it first."
"Pretend? How would that help?"
"Never mind." Harriet tried another tack. "Can you access the Chirless Residents' Association?"
"Yes, I have their number here."
"That's not what I meant by access. We need some data and they won't give it to us."
"What do you need?"
"Contact details. Names and addresses of all ex-Peace Force officers." Harriet's commset beeped. "Wait a minute, I think I have a message."
"Of course you have a message," said Bernie calmly. "That is the list of names and addresses you requested."
"Already?"
"I'm sorry, should I have taken longer? Pretended, perhaps?"
"Er, no. Thanks Bernie."
"Was there anything else?"
"Power," hissed Alice, gesturing at the dim lights.
"Bernie, can you get the electricity back on at the Chirless Peace Force station?"
There was a flicker, and the office was bathed in light.
"Hey, thanks!" said Harriet.
"You're welcome," replied the robot. "Also, I have some very positive news."
"You managed to get some reinforcements?"
"No, I'm happy to tell you the Peace Force will not have to pay for the power. I have attached the charges to the Chirless Residents' Association account."
Harriet rolled her eyes. Only Bernie would consider that great news. "Thanks, Bernie. Harriet out." She turned to the others. "Well, we're on our own, but I did get the list of officers." She passed her commset to Birch. "Can you go through them and pick out any who might help us? We just need to borrow some blankets, maybe a portable bed or two. See what you can scrounge up."
"Sure thing."
"What about me?" said Alice.
"We're going to tidy up a bit, and then I'll get some food in."
"Maybe we should fly home for the night," said Alice. "I know Bernie won't like it, but we could come back in the morning, and—"
"This might take longer than a day or two." Harriet gestured around the office. "It's not great, but we'll manage."
— ♦ —
It was later that evening, and Birch was struggling with a portable camping stove, while Alice and Harriet were putting together a set of light-weight beds.
"These don't look strong enough," said Alice, as she inspected the thin tubing.
Harriet shrugged. "They wouldn't sell them if they didn't work."
"Seriously? What universe did you teleport in from?"
"Well, it's all they had in stock, so we'll just have to manage."
Birch had tried calling his contacts, but hadn't managed to get hold of anyone. He was hoarse from leaving messages, and in the end Harriet had gone out and bought a few basic items to see them through the night. She'd used her own money, what little she had, and 'basic' was a pretty accurate description.
There was a bang and a string of curses. Harriet looked over, and saw Birch trying to douse the flames which had engulfed his sleeve. He managed to put them out, and he stood there, smoking gently and looking extremely irritated. "This isn't a camping stove," he muttered. "It's a portable flame thrower."
"And these aren't beds," said Alice, sucking on a bleeding finger. "They're primitive torture devices."
Harriet eyed the pair of them. It wasn't exactly the good-natured camaraderie she'd been hoping for, and she was seriously considering flying back to Dismolle. Then she heard a banging from the reception area, and she raised a hand for silence.
They all heard the banging again, and Harriet crossed to the doorway separating the reception area from the office. She stood with her back to the wall, then slowly peered around the corner. She'd half-expected a gang of thugs, but instead it was an elderly couple surrounded by boxes and crates of gear. The couple were peering through the tinted glass doors, and as the woman spotted Harriet, she waved.
They didn't look like armed thugs, so Harriet strode to doors and addressed the pair of them through the armoured glass. "What is it?" she called.
"Birch called us. He said you needed some things."
With a grin, Harriet operated the door controls. The heavy glass doors slid open, and the couple gathered up all their packages and staggered into the office. Harriet sealed the doors behind them, then took a couple of boxes and led the elderly couple into the station.
"Birchy!" shouted the woman, as she saw Dave. "You haven't changed a bit!"
"Sticks McCluskey, you old warhorse," exclaimed Birch. "How's the leg these days? And Duke! You don't look a day over eighty."
They all shook hands, and Birch nodded at the crates they'd brought with them. "What's that lot, then?"
"Supplies," said Sticks. She looked at the camping stove Birch had been trying to light. "You can toss that thing, I brought a real one."
Birch introduced the arrivals as Henry Banville and Maggy McCluskey. The elderly couple nodded at Harriet and Alice before setting about their things. Within minutes they'd organised camp beds, set up a four-burner stove and had a kettle of water boiling away.
The atmosphere changed completely with the newcomers there. They were excited, and their enthusiasm infected everyone. Suddenly there was an air of purpose, and Harriet was glad t
hey'd stayed.
"Did you get hold of anyone else?" McCluskey asked.
Birch shook his head. "Left a few messages, though. They might show up."
"Don't bet on it. Damned telemarketers are making everyone's life hell. Health insurance, denture clinics … and those damned ads for cut-price coffins! You name it, they're desperate to flog it. It's so bad most of us don't answer the phone any more, and if we do get messages, we just delete the lot."
"So how come you came?"
"I was bored, so I listened to my calls," said McCluskey. "And Duke here, he lives on the same floor so I dragged him along."
"We really appreciate you coming," said Harriet, "but when you learn why we're here, you might not want to hang around."
"I'm guessing it's these thugs and their extortion racket." McCluskey smiled at her reaction. "Am I right?"
"How did you know?"
"Well, first off, I like to keep myself informed. And second, Birch said so in his message … which was buried amongst a hundred others."
"I wish we could bury those telemarketers," growled Banville.
"Are they really that bad?" asked Harriet.
"They call day and night. Some people are thinking of going off the grid completely."
Harriet gestured at Birch. "You got my commset?"
"Sure."
He handed it over, and Harriet called Bernie. "I've found evidence of criminal behaviour. They're masquerading as telemarketers, but they're really trying to con the residents of Chirless."
"That is disturbing. Are you sure?"
"I'm certain," said Harriet. "Can you bring up the local call logs, and find any company which is pushing health insurance, denture clinics … that kind of thing? You're looking for a pattern, multiple calls to the same locations. Day and night, apparently."
"I have found what you are looking for. There are three companies currently running campaigns."
"Good. Can you erase all their data?"
"You want me to delete their call records?"
"No, I want you to erase everything they have. Every disk, every piece of memory, and every backup. Can you do that?"
"Of course. I have zeroed their data, their offsite backups … and their bank accounts."
