I knew it would be difficult. On the plus side, most of the candidates came from the Department of Public Safety, while others were recent émigrés transferred from the System Initiative with time spent in security. They all had some experience in policing methods and had been training for at least a month. Now Anthony’s plan was to build on that with advanced training while simultaneously deploying them for immediate duty. Much of their training had gone on in the background before he had ever approached me to lead the department. I had resisted the idea of deployment while training as impractical; but Anthony—with help, strangely, from Nick—had persuaded me that it was possible.
While we waited, I weaved my way between the bodies and gave my force an inspection. For a bunch of mostly civilians they did not do too badly; but my orders from Anthony were to train them to be observers and investigators of the highest order, and I could not do that without setting an example.
I turned to the nearest officer, a muscular blond man who seemed a little too casual for the occasion. I read his badge. “Flagg!”
He straightened. “Yes, ma’am.”
I looked him over. “That is a brand-new uniform. How did you get it so wrinkled?”
“Ummm . . .”
“Never mind. Next time you show up for muster, I want it pressed.” I looked to the next officer. “Willis! Button those cuffs. People, you need to look sharp, dress sharp. It gives the public confidence.”
I continued my inspection, citing every single discrepancy in their uniforms, and I filed a report for every one of them. When the inspection was done, I stood in the anteroom near the entry, and I addressed them. “I expect better. Next time, you will do better.” I checked my comm, but only for effect. “There is no time to send you back for tailoring and stitching now, so this will have to do.” I said that last remark as I saw Anthony’s private elevator showing the floor count rising. I had properly chastised my troops; but I had done it in private, not in front of the big boss.
When the door dinged open, Anthony came out, in deep conversation with Alonzo. Then he saw me, squeezed through the crowd to my side, and shook my hand. “Ms. Morais, what do you think of your police force?”
I looked around, and in a loud voice I hoped that every one of them could hear, I said, “They will do, Mr. Mayor. A lot of potential here. I think you have done an excellent job hiring.”
“Thank you,” he said, and then turned to the nearest officers. “I agree. You men and women look good, and your records look good as well. Maxwell City is counting on you. We’re having growing pains, and we need to manage that growth. Having a police force will be a whole new experience for the residents, so I’m counting on you to help smooth things out. I want them to see you as on their side, not as some hostile other. You’re here to keep the public safe, yourself included. Your next priority right behind safety is trust. They go hand in hand. If they don’t trust you, they won’t be safe, and you won’t be either.”
Then he turned back to me. “Ms. Morais, is your force ready to be introduced to the city?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Mayor,” I said, snapping to attention. “Do you want us to march into the auditorium behind you?”
Anthony carefully looked around, and then he grinned. “March? In those red paramilitary clothes? You’d look like a conquering army. No, Ms. Morais, my orders are to amble, stroll, come in at your own pace. Don’t worry about ranks and files. You’re casual. You’re at ease. But when you’re all in, then form a line. Well, three lines, or you won’t all fit on the stage, but you get my point. You’re a wall, you’re strong. And smiles, everyone, smiles!”
With that the curtains of the auditorium spread open, and Anthony strolled out casually to the microphone. After the Main Dome and the Concourse, the auditorium was the second-largest room in Maxwell City, and it was nearly full with journos and other onlookers. A giant holographic Mars globe hung in the air behind and above Anthony, rotating once per minute. Sparkling dots indicated Maxwell City, Tholus Under, and Alpheus Base. Smaller pinpoints indicated the Gander and Azevedo settlements, as well as numerous smaller registered settlements.
The force followed Anthony, taking our time working through the anteroom, obviously civilian, not military. And yet, when we finally found our places, we were that red line backing him up.
Anthony began his remarks. He had no visible notes, of course, but he did not need them with his subcomp. “Ladies and gentlemen of the media, citizens of Maxwell City, you’re all familiar with the Department of Public Safety. DPS seals leaks. They search for lost personnel. They put out fires. They deliver emergency medicine. They see you home if you’ve been out too late and enjoyed yourself too much.” A laugh rolled through the crowd. “And they keep the peace. But we’re experiencing growth: we’re a city of fifty thousand now, and going up. And unfortunately, being a bigger city brings big-city problems. DPS will still be here to help with emergencies and to respond to traffic incidents; but we need to expand our enforcement and investigation capacity. The time has come for me to introduce to you”—he turned to his left, waving his arm at half of our line, and then turned to wave at the other half—“the new Maxwell City Police Department.”
Questions flooded from the audience of media people. I wanted to shake my head, but I kept my cool. None of this was a surprise. The police force had been discussed and approved in multiple council sessions. Even the uniform designs had been gone over in detail to try to soften them and make them less military.
But many of our citizens never paid attention to government unless it paid attention to them. For some of them the police force was going to be a complete surprise. They were a large subset, and the journalists were pandering to them. They asked questions that had been answered in council half a dozen times before: “Why do we need a police force?” “Is this a vote of no confidence in the Department of Public Safety?” “What sort of laws will they enforce?” “What sort of punishment?”
I swear: Had none of these people studied our system of government? They did not seem to know the first thing about how law and order ran around here. We still operated under the authority of the System Initiative, the international body created to oversee human exploration of space. Not everyone was happy with that: Anthony’s Libertist Party led a bloc of smaller parties, in Maxwell City and the other Martian settlements, that wanted to press for Martian independence. But until the situation changed, our “laws” were Initiative regulations, with a limited local autonomy layered on top. The System Initiative was “taking the future status of Mars under advisement,” meaning that we might someday be free cities when we had earned back enough to pay for the investments in our infrastructure and had demonstrated that we were functioning as a cohesive, self-sufficient community.
Then came a question that Anthony had warned me to expect, one which threw the question of independence versus Initiative wide open: “Are they going to have guns?” The reporter, Tara Rockford, was a stringer who sold most of her stories back to Earth. Lately she had reported extensively on the Carla Grace campaign and the Realist Party, the bloc that wanted stronger ties with the Initiative. Grace’s charisma and quick mind made this the first seriously contested race Anthony had ever faced; and Rockford’s stories had been slanted against Anthony.
Anthony looked at Rockford and said, “I’ll leave that question up to my police chief. Most of you are familiar with the nearly three-decade-long space career of Rosalia Morais: first on the construction crew for Farport Station; later an admiral in charge of Martian traffic control; and more recently a citizen of Maxwell City and a valued member of our community.” There was polite applause. “I have asked Ms. Morais to serve as police chief because I have complete confidence in her ability to keep the peace and to lead investigations into issues that may cross over into criminal. I need not tell you of her involvement in the resolution of the recent poisoning scandal. So she is the perfect person to establish the practices and responsibilities of the police chief’s offi
ce. Ms. Morais.”
There was more applause as I stepped to the microphone. I waited it out, and then I turned to Rockford. “Ms. Rockford, as I know you are aware, we have no native predators here on Mars. The only purposes for weapons here is for use against other human citizens. And so the official System Initiative policy is that firearms are not permitted on Mars.”
Then I looked out over the crowd. “Now, pardon me, but as a former officer of the System Initiative, I can tell you that sometimes they are blind to realities out in space. I have heard tales that on Earth weaponsmithing is a hobby some skilled people pick up. On Mars, skill—all kinds of skill—is how we survive. Other than you, Ms. Rockford, if there is a person in this room who could not build a functioning firearm with a machine shop and a few hours . . .” I looked over the crowd. “If that is any of you, please do not tell me. I do not want to lose respect for you.”
The crowd laughed, and I continued, “So yes, we plan to be armed when we think circumstances warrant, in full violation of official Initiative policy. They encourage us to govern and police ourselves, because they do not have enough personnel and enough logistics to run things from twenty light-minutes away.” I was cribbing from Libertist boilerplate, but it was good boilerplate. “They do not have the personnel necessary to disarm all of Mars, so I cannot believe they’ll waste time trying to disarm the police. And you can quote me to your viewers back on Earth. Ms. Rockford: we do not plan to use the arms if we do not have to; but when you have to, it is too late to arm yourself then.”
And then I turned out to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, if an armed police force worries you, there is one simple way to solve that issue. Do not use weapons anywhere in Maxwell City, and we shall not have to use ours.”
Rockford stood and reached the microphone closer to me, making sure she would be heard throughout the room. “Ms. Morais, are you under orders of Mayor Holmes to willfully disobey an Initiative regulation? Is Chief Hogan aware of this?”
I looked straight into her camera. “It is not my place to speak for Chief Hogan. I only say that if the Initiative regulators came here, they would see things the way they are, and then they would make the same decision I have. For a long time now, the people of Mars—certainly the people of Maxwell City—have understood that we must make our own rules because we are the ones who live or die by them. That truth goes all the way back to before the founding of the city, back to the Bradbury expeditions. We will comply where it makes sense, but we shall do what we have to do to run things here and to survive. We always have, and I do not expect that to change now that we have a police force.”
I turned the microphone back over to Anthony. The rest of the questions were tame after that one. Again, everything had been discussed in council meetings. There was no new information to divulge. Even the fact that we were an armed police force was nothing new. Rockford was just playing up the drama of the moment, or so it seemed to me, trying to generate speculation about conflict with the Initiative.
When Anthony took another break, I introduced some of my senior officers and let each of them tell of their experience on Mars. Some were former Initiative personnel, while others came from various local industries: shipping, manufacturing, exploring, hydroponics, trading, and more. And of course, Public Safety: I recognized Officer Erica Vile from our encounter a week ago.
After five officers had told their stories, Anthony took the microphone again. “We could tell more. We could talk for hours. These are your fellow citizens. They understand your life here on Mars. They’re here to protect it.” He turned to me. “Ma’am.”
I snapped to attention, and my force did as well. We did not look military, but we looked a whole lot more disciplined than when we had walked in. We were transformed. We were something new. We were the police.
I looked them over. “Ladies, gentlemen, to your patrols. Let us go meet Maxwell City, and keep it safe.”
My force broke ranks. Some filed back through the curtain, while others strode through the crowd and out the other exits. They set off toward their assigned patrols.
8. THE SQUAD ROOM
Maxwell City being mostly underground, it was a city of slidewalks, elevators, drop tubes, and walkways. A fast person who knew their way around could cross the city in under twenty minutes. But I had told the force I did not want them walking fast. I wanted them meeting the people. It was crucial that we build rapport.
Anthony and I had debated on whether I should lead a squad or not; but I had insisted, and eventually I had won out. “I do not want to be a figurehead,” I had said. “You wanted me for my powers of observation, and I am happy to jump in wherever I am needed. But those powers are best put to use on the street with the people.”
I was no stranger to policing, though it had been a long time since I had done so at a personal level. When I had been admiral in charge of Martian traffic, that had made me a de facto head of a policing organization—in some sense, a traffic cop. A major part of that job had been ensuring that traffic was in safe orbits that would not intersect other traffic and would not threaten any facilities, on orbit or on the ground; but a secondary part had been enforcing customs and contamination regulations.
I had to laugh when I thought of Rockford asking me about the dangers of firearms in the hands of the police. I had once had the power to order ships blown out of the sky if they failed to move to a safe orbit. A ship in the wrong orbit can be lethal to other vessels, as Nick had learned on the second Bradbury expedition when a runaway lander had destroyed his ship. On occasion through the years, I had had to sacrifice one ship to save another, and then justify it to my higher-ups. By comparison, firearms were a small threat.
My intransigence about commanding a squad threw a monkey wrench into Anthony’s plans for my office. He had intended to give me a room on the same floor as his, where I could easily make progress reports on cases. As we left the media conference, he brought it up again. “I talked with Alonzo. I can move his office into my reception room, and you can turn his old office into your squad room.”
“No,” I said. “Unless you expect high crimes in the Admin Center, we need to be out in the city.”
“I haven’t leased any space for a squad in the district. I hadn’t thought we’d need it.”
“Well, count on needing it now. You should be able to negotiate a lease in a few days. In the meantime, I shall go to Zeb and see if we can take up residence in his back room.”
I went out and found my command squad standing around gossiping while waiting for me. I walked up slowly until I was close enough to surprise the nearest one. “Schippers,” I said. “Here!” I pointed to a spot. “Ammon, here!” I pointed to another. Two young women moved to the locations I had indicated. “Monè,” I said. A young Indian man jumped to where I indicated. “Flagg!” The man sauntered over. “Look alive. Byrne!” A shorter man moved into place. “Vile!” Vile took her spot. I snapped my fingers twice, trying to remember the next name. “Um, um, Wagner!” A short older man stepped into place. “And . . .” But I drew a blank on the final name.
The last officer, a tall, dark-haired man, opened his mouth and held up a hand. “Hulett, ma’am,” he said.
“All right,” I said. “I shall dock myself one point for that. But the rest of you, I remembered your names from a five-minute inspection this morning. Do you think you could do that?”
Hulett shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“That is why I am the police chief, because I am right and you are wrong. You all will learn to observe this well, and you will learn to remember the details. I am going to teach you if it means drilling you every night until you drop. Even if it means playing stupid cadet games, tracking points earned and lost. You were all chosen for this squad because you already knew Public Safety and other departments inside and out. You demonstrated aptitude to do better. I do not know what your habits were in DPS, but here we have to be proactive.”
“What?” Vile asked. “Arrest
people for things they haven’t done yet?”
“No, Vile, but learn to be aware of what might happen and what you might do if it does happen. I am counting on you eight to be my test case to show the rest of the force what can be done. And then you know what your reward will be?”
“No, ma’am,” Ammon said.
“I shall break this command squad up and send you out to lead other squads and have you train them and prove to me that you are better trainers than I am. We’ve already established a squad post in each district, and each of you has been assigned a command office in a district. You’ll divide your time between here and your squad post according to schedules you’ll receive. You shall all have promotions and the gratitude of the city, because it will be a safer place because of you.”
Flagg looked at me. I thought I saw calculation behind his eyes. “It sounds like boot camp. I didn’t sign up for no boot camp.”
I inclined my head toward the door. “There is your way out. Your records show all of you are the best we have, but this is not a draft. You can leave anytime you want . . . but you will be leaving one of the most important jobs in the city, and you shall not be welcome back. Go back to DPS if you want, but from this day forward this is the hardest job you will ever have—and the best. If you quit, you will spend the rest of your life knowing you could not be the best. So, any quitters here?”
I stared at Flagg. He stared back, but then turned away. No one looked at the door. “All right, let us go find a squad room.”
The Last Campaign (The Near-Earth Mysteries) Page 7
