by Simon Haynes
"Yep, got that."
"This can be a hindrance when dealing with the general public. Some people are scared, others try to order me around as they would their own serving droids." Bernie spread her hands. "What this Peace Force station needs is a human face. Someone better at public relations than I will ever be."
"So I'm just a PR person, and you get to do all the investigating?"
"I am the superior officer," said Bernie. "However, over time you will learn new skills. Eventually you will be suited to front-line duties."
"Sounds good to me." Harriet glanced towards the kitchen. "I know I need certificates for everything, but am I licensed to make coffee?"
"Naturally, but we do not have foodstuffs in the station at this moment in time. Cups either, for that matter."
"I'll bring some from home." Harriet paused. There was something else she wanted to ask, something really important, but she didn't know how to broach the subject. Then she shrugged and decided to ask directly. "Bernie, can I get an advance on my wages?"
"You require funds?"
"Yeah. I have to pay rent, buy food … maybe a tin of coffee and some milk, too."
"I'm sorry, but the Peace Force does not—"
"If you say no, I'll have to walk out of here and find a casual job."
Bernie hesitated. "Very well. I will transfer funds into your account."
"Do you need the number?"
"Trainee Walsh, I have access to every information network on the planet." Bernie closed her eyes briefly. "Transfer complete."
"I didn't tell you how much I needed!"
"I added up all your debts and multiplied the figure by two."
Harriet felt a surge of gratitude … and a feeling of peace and security which had been missing from her life since Auntie died. "Thanks, Bernie. I mean it."
"You can thank me by becoming the best Peace Force trainee Dismolle has ever seen."
"No pressure then."
"I have every confidence in you. In fact, I have so much confidence I'm willing to assign your first case."
"We have cases? But I thought there was no crime?"
"This is a case of serious financial fraud. Money is owed —" Bernie paused.
And paused.
"Er … Bernie?"
The robot started. "I am sorry, Trainee Walsh. Soon I must charge my batteries."
"But what about the case? And … I thought I was just the PR person around here?"
"Consider this your first learning experience. I have made a list containing all known suspects. You will find that list in the crime-fighting app on your terminal. I'm sure you can do the rest."
Bernie turned for the lift, but Harriet stopped her.
"Why are these people suspects?"
"Because I suspect they're not telling the truth."
Harriet had only been a Peace Force trainee for ten minutes, but she was pretty sure Bernie had it wrong. "What do you suspect them of?"
"Of not telling the truth," said Bernie.
"And thus the circle closes," murmured Harriet. "Listen, why don't I call them and sort this out?"
"Is that a euphemism?"
"For what?"
"Bribery is commonly referred to as 'sorting things out'. Also 'making rent' and 'see me right, guv'nor'." Bernie looked at her with narrowed eyes. "I don't have to call Internal Affairs, do I?"
"No, of course not. I just meant I'd … interrogate them. On your behalf."
"This is acceptable. After my recharge I will prepare the cells and the restraints."
"I'm just going to talk to them, Bernie. They don't all have to come into the station."
"That is not standard procedure."
Harriet gestured. "Who needs stuffy old procedures, eh? Let me talk to them. Please?"
"Very well, against my better judgement. And now I really must … recharge." Bernie turned and walked towards the lift, moving slowly. On the way she called over her shoulder. "Details on … your terminal."
Chapter 4
Harriet sat at her desk, smiling to herself as she spotted the name tags Bernie had attached to everything. Then, with the thrilling feeling that she was about to get started on real Peace Force work, she switched on the terminal. She ran the crime-fighting app, and immediately hit a key to skip the cheesy intro. Her keypress was ignored, and she was treated to animated logos, copyright messages, and health and safety warnings before the intro finally wrapped up with a loud fanfare and a shot of the Peace Force badge.
"Bet they're the same people who programmed Bernie," muttered Harriet.
Before the software could display its opening menu, the overhead lights dimmed and the terminal screen went dark. Harriet glanced around, surprised, but when her gaze returned to the screen it was working properly. She knew this for a fact, because it was busy displaying the cheesy intro … right from the very beginning.
The software finally came up with a big empty screen. Harriet thought it had crashed, worn out after displaying so many logos, but then several text fields and buttons swam into view from the sides. A case number was displayed in the middle, along with a big button to contact the suspect. There were two sets of 'forward' and 'backward' arrows to either side, presumably to view other suspects on this case, and also other cases, and at the bottom of the form there was a toggle for guilty/not guilty. Obviously the Peace Force didn't see the need for juries, or law courts. Or any details like evidence, for that matter. In fact, nowhere on the screen did it give a reason for the suspect actually being a suspect. All she had to go on was Bernie's assertion that there was financial fraud involved.
Oh well, she thought, I won't make an arrest if I don't start. So, she picked up Trainee Walsh's Phone and tapped the button on the screen to call Trainee Walsh's First Suspect.
"Stop it," she muttered. "You'll go mad."
"I'm sorry?" said a voice on the other end of the line.
"Mr Kertin, I'm Harriet Walsh of the Dismolle Peace Force." As she said the words, a grin broke out on her face. Hearing it like that, for the very first time, was more than cool. It sounded official … businesslike. She belonged to a huge organisation that spanned the galaxy, bringing criminals to justice and protecting ordinary people from —
"What's the Peace Force?" demanded Kertin.
Thrown for a moment, Harriet could only parrot the official line. "We bring criminals to justice, and —"
Kertin snorted, interrupting her. "I know who you are."
Harriet reddened. She should have deduced he was being sarcastic. "Mr Kertin —"
"Wait, you sound like a human," said the man. "I was expecting that daft Peace Force robot."
"Bernie called you already?"
"Who?"
"BNE-II. The, er, Peace Force robot."
"Yeah, she's called me. Two or three times a week, at last count."
"Well, this is an important case which merits our attention. In matters of serious financial —"
Kertin made a rude noise. "You really are new, aren't you? Listen, why don't you ask that flaky robot copper why I'm supposed to owe you people money. In the meantime, stop bugging me."
There was a click, and Harriet realised he'd hung up on her. Great job, she thought. You just botched an important lesson: how to question a suspect.
Well, she'd only learn by doing, and Bernie said there was a comprehensive list of suspects to question. The first few were likely to be awkward, but she'd soon get the swing of things. She tapped the 'next' arrow and immediately pressed the 'contact suspect' button. As the connection went through, she couldn't help noticing the name of the second suspect: Mr Kertin.
"Hello? What is it?" he said, his voice even less welcoming this time.
Feeling guilty, Harriet hung up on him. Then, puzzled, she clicked the 'next' arrow again. Mr Kertin showed up, again. Click. Mr Kertin. She kept clicking, faster and faster, until she realised it wasn't actually broken. It was going through the list of suspects one person at a time, just like she wanted. The
problem was, the 'comprehensive list' only contained one suspect.
She realised exactly what had happened. When Bernie needed a trainee, she made a list of everyone suitable. That list contained Harriet's name, and nobody else's. This list contained 'every suspect' in the case, as Bernie had put it. And the only suspect was Mr Kertin, who by now must be absolutely sick to the back teeth of the Dismolle Peace Force.
However, she had a case to solve and Kertin was her only lead. A little apprehensive, she tapped the call button.
"Me again," she said, dispensing with the official response. "Look, Bernie's not available and I need to sort this out. Can you just tell me what's going on?"
Kertin sighed. "That damned robot is always pushing tickets for her lottery, or raffle, or whatever it is. I used to buy one a month, but I stopped paying when I found out all the tickets have the same number. Plus, the draw never actually takes place … not that it stops her pestering me to buy more of the things."
"She's never drawn the lottery?" asked Harriet in surprise. "Why not?"
"You're the detective. Maybe you should, I don't know, investigate?"
"I'll talk to her about it."
"You do that." Kertin sounded hopeful. "I'll tell you now, if you can sort this out I'll be forever in your debt."
"Instead of in Bernie's debt," said Harriet.
Kertin laughed. "Sometimes I'm tempted to report a crime just to keep that damned robot busy for a few days."
"That's illegal!" said Harriet.
"So's menacing people for money, and so's running dodgy raffles. But I promise I won't break the law if she doesn't."
"Very well, Mr Kertin. I'll get back to you."
"No problem. And … thanks. You'll do well in the Peace Force."
Harriet hung up, feeling a lot happier. She had no idea what Bernie's raffle was, but she could ask about that later. Right now, it looked like Bernie was inventing her own cases to keep busy.
With Bernie out of action, Harriet decided to do some investigating of her own. She experimented with the screen, and eventually discovered that double-tapping on the case number brought up a screen for more details. Unfortunately, all the fields were blank. Then she noticed the 'contact case officer' button. It was either that or go shopping for coffee and milk, and she figured she could earn the latter by doing the former. So, she tapped the button. Then she looked at the handset on her desk, half-expecting it to buzz, because she was almost certainly calling herself.
Sure enough, it went off with a strident ringing sound. At that moment Harriet was glad the office was deserted, because if anyone had been watching her, they'd be rolling on the floor laughing themselves sick right now. Meanwhile the commset rang and rang, until it finally stopped. Harriet prodded her screen again, but she couldn't make it do anything new, and she was about to give up when she heard a faint noise under her feet.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Harriet frowned. It sounded like Bernie walking around in the basement, but the robot was supposed to be getting a charge. She listened carefully, and almost jumped out of her skin when there was a loud ping from the elevator. The doors swept open and inside, huge and impassive, stood Bernie.
"Why did you not answer your commset, Trainee Walsh?" demanded the robot.
"Wait, that was you?" Harriet stared at the device. "I thought I'd called myself!"
"I am the case officer, so your call came to me."
"But you were charging in the basement."
"Charging, yes. Off duty, never," said Bernie severely. "That is a lesson you would do well to learn."
"I'll try," said Harriet meekly. She was embarrassed she'd interrupted the robot's recharge, but now Bernie was there … "So, um, this fraud case."
"You have a question?"
"There's only one suspect."
"Correct."
"What did he do?" Harriet remembered their previous circular conversation. "I mean, what exactly did he do? What are we accusing him of?"
"He's in debt to the Peace Force."
"Over some raffle tickets?"
Bernie nodded. "I'm glad you have the facts of the case. That will make apprehending and jailing the suspect a lot easier."
"Slow down there, partner. Tell me about the raffle first."
"I shall do so, but you must know that we are not partners. I am your superior officer."
"Yes sir," murmured Harriet.
"We can dispense with formalities in the office, but in the field …" Here, Bernie gazed towards the broken front doors, and the street beyond. "Out there, outside … in the field …"
"Yes, go on."
Bernie sighed. "You must call me sir around others."
"Got it. Now, that lottery …"
"I shall endeavour to explain." Bernie settled on her haunches with a whine of hydraulics. "Since Peace Force headquarters does not see fit to provide this office with sufficient funds, we must raise our own. Our needs are modest, the funds required not particularly large. Therefore, I scoured the population database and refined a list of potential benefactors. The list contains every citizen with sufficient disposable income, and a predisposition towards gambling. That last is essential, because in order to lessen the burden on these fine citizens, I devised a lottery."
A warning signal went off in Harriet's brain, but she set it aside for now. "Okay, so you have a list of people. Then what?"
"I call them, offering them tickets in exchange for funds. The winner takes half the total, the Peace Force gets the remainder."
"Sounds fair so far. So what did Mr Kirten do?"
"He promised to buy a ticket every month."
"How much per ticket?"
"One credit."
"Is that it? He's refusing to pay one lousy credit? It's a bit stingy, but it's not exactly serious financial fraud is it?"
"On the contrary, it's most serious. I calculated the number of tickets he was required to purchase and invoiced him for the total amount."
"I thought he was buying one a month?"
"Indeed, but it is more efficient to pay the total amount in one transaction."
"Right, instead of lots of one-credit payments. So what did you do, send him a bill for twelve months or something?"
"Or something. In fact, the total amount was two hundred and forty thousand credits."
* * *
Walsh was glad the office had no coffee, because at that moment she'd have deposited an entire mouthful all over her desk, the terminal and her new uniform. "A quarter of a million? How did you come up with that?"
"It's simple. Human civilisation is expected to last around twenty thousand years before reverting to a primitive, agrarian society. Twelve months per year, times twenty-thousand years —"
"Two hundred something grand," muttered Harriet. "Well, good luck getting that sort of donation."
"Kertin made a promise."
"He promised one credit a month, Bernie."
"There was no end date."
"Yeah, but you can't just charge him until the end of time."
"It's not the end of time, it's —"
"Wait a minute. He won't live twenty thousand years. Why didn't you bill him for his lifespan?"
"His descendants inherit the debt. That is the law."
"What if he has no kids?"
"He does. According to census data there are two children aged three and six. I have already garnished their future earnings."
"Bernie, this is insane. You can't persecute a guy over raffle tickets."
"I can and I will."
"But he claims the raffle is rigged!"
Bernie hesitated.
"It's not rigged, is it?"
"I … I have yet to award the major prize."
"But you can't do that. If you hold a raffle, you have to pay up."
"I cannot."
"Why not?"
"Because this office does not have a hundred and twenty thousand credits."
Harriet stared at the robot in shock. "Oh boy,"
she managed at last.
"You see, I announced the prize based on half the income from ticket sales, which was a little optimistic."
"Just a bit."
"But all will be well, Trainee Walsh. Now that you're here, we can pressure Mr Kertin together to ensure he pays his debt."
"Bernie, nobody has that kind of money. Certainly not an ordinary guy with two kids."
"But he must pay, else the … raffle cannot be drawn."
Bernie seemed to be having trouble speaking, and Walsh realised she was going flat again. "Do you need to charge up?"
"In a moment. My batteries drain a lot quicker when I'm thinking."
Harriet bit her tongue at that. "What about all the other people who bought tickets?"
"I have not sold any other tickets."
Harriet felt a flood of relief. "But that's great! Cancel the raffle, tell Kertin he's off the hook and everything's settled!"
"But we need the funds," said Bernie stubbornly. "Indeed, I have already allocated … our share of the proceeds."
"What proceeds?" Then Harriet grasped the significance. "You spent money we don't even have?" Even as she said the words, Harriet realised she'd been guilty of exactly that herself. But this was the Peace Force, a galactic organisation! They weren't supposed to owe money!
"Running a department like this is not cheap. There's electricity, and …" Bernie looked at the broken front doors "… repairs, and … even more electricity. This station is in debt, Trainee Walsh. I … we must raise funds by any means necessary."
Harriet blinked. Was the robot about to suggest they rob a bank together? If so, the Peace cruiser she'd seen earlier they would make one hell of a getaway car. Then she shook her head, dispelling the crazy notion. "All right, let's go with the raffle idea. You said you made a comprehensive list of donors …" Harriet's voice tailed off as she remembered her earlier warning signals. "There's only one name on that list, isn't there?"
Looking somewhat unhappy, Bernie just nodded.
"All right, expand the list. Widen the parameters, or whatever it's called. We'll need a couple of hundred names."
"An excellent suggestion." Bernie closed her eyes. "Done. There's a new fund-raising app … on your terminal, which you can use to … create a more comprehensive list. Now I must - must - recharge."
