by Simon Haynes
"Why didn't they put a shield over the exhaust port?" asked the boy in red.
Alice ignored him, and pointed towards a girl with her hand up. "Yes. You."
"What's the nastiest criminal you've arrested?"
"Let me think a minute," said Alice, desperately trying to come up with something that could top her previous efforts. "Oh, of course! There was this guy we called the Snatcher. He used to sneak into kids' bedrooms at night, and pluck out their eyeballs!"
Wide-eyed, the children stared at her, rapt.
"When he had enough, he'd make ice cream sundaes and put the eyes on top … like cherries!"
"Eeeeewwww!"
The boy in red put his hand up. Alice ignored him, and leaned forward, eying the other kids. "And do you know what?" she whispered.
They leaned forward too, breathless.
"He only went after kids in red!" finished Alice. She saw her adversary go pale, and silently gave herself a high five. That'd teach the little horror.
The rest of the kids screamed with laughter.
"Anyway, when I arrested this guy … it turns out he was an alien, wearing one of his victims as a skin!" She made a wrenching motion. "I tore it off him, and he tried to bite me. So I pulled my gun and … blam! Blood and guts everywhere!"
There were delighted gasps.
"And then all the pieces started joining up again, and the alien smiled with its horrible fangy mouth, and said—"
The door opened and the teacher looked in.
"—that's how we fill out a missing persons form," said Alice smoothly.
The kids cackled with laughter, some of them even clapping her, and Alice felt a burst of pleasure.
"My, you certainly have a way with children," said the teacher.
"Oh, you know. It's easy really." Alice still had the crumpled speech on obedience in her pocket, but she'd spent so much time writing it she realised she didn't need it. Instead, she ad-libbed the rest of her talk, keeping the kids spellbound as she threw in hair-raising anecdotes from her own childhood to liven things up.
When she was finally finished she'd run twenty minutes over time, but nobody noticed. The teacher came to join her at the front of the class, giving her a huge smile. "I'm so happy you could make it today. Come on, everyone. Let's thank Officer Alice Walsh of the Dismolle Peace Force!"
There was a cacophony of applause, and even the boy in red joined in. Alice gave him a wink, their verbal jousting forgotten, and then she turned to the teacher. "My boss said I had to come, so I was only obeying orders," she said honestly. "But I really enjoyed myself, and … thanks. Thanks to all of you."
Chapter 13
Harriet waved her badge at spaceport security, and they raised the barrier to let her drive onto the landing field. Before she drove off, she beckoned to the guard. "Which ship is on pad forty-seven?"
"Let me check." The guard returned to his cubicle and inspected a screen. "That's the Latimer. Do you have business with them?"
"Might do. Who owns it?"
The guard checked. "It's listed under a leasing company. You'll need a proper warrant to dig deeper."
"Never mind."
"Er, there is one thing."
"Yes?"
"The ground crew tell me it's a Family ship. They can be a bit, you know, protective of their privacy. I'd just … take care."
"Thanks, and I will." Harriet drove under the barrier. Bernie would be there shortly, but there was no harm in having a quick look around.
The field was busy, with concrete landing pads dotted around like crazy paving, each with a cargo ship perched on top. They were all shapes and sizes, old, new and everything in between. Harriet could smell the tang of burnt fuel, and it brought back memories of her childhood when she'd managed to convince Auntie to bring her out and watch the ships. She enjoyed the landings, but lift-offs were the best. She had no idea where all the ships were going, but the thundering noise and the sight of that bright little spark rising into the sky was always enough to get her pulse racing. One day she'd roam space and travel to new systems, she was certain of it, but right now she had a mission.
They drove along a row of landing pads, with Steve negotiating the refuelling clusters, cargo trucks and ground crew. A lot of the workers were robots, some of them big and sturdy, for lifting cargo, while others were slender, and much smaller. Each had their own speciality, and they worked fast emptying or loading ships, attaching fuel hoses and performing minor repairs.
There were big loaders, too, with huge rubber-shod wheels and long metal forks. They'd vanish into a cargo hold with a roar from their engine, then reverse back out again carrying huge pallets or containers crammed with goods, placing them on the waiting trucks before heading back for another load.
"Don't get too close," advised Harriet, as one of the loaders tore past. It towered over the car, and she put her window up as black fumes billowed from the exhaust, making her cough.
Pad forty-seven, by comparison, was peaceful and still. A graceful ship sat on the concrete landing pad, balanced on three heavy legs. Her lines were good, with a graceful curve from the tip of the nose cone to the tall, swept-back tail fin at the rear. She had a pair of huge exhaust cones at the back, and she looked fast and powerful.
High above the ground, just under the tail plane, was the ship's name: Latimer.
"Bet you ten credits that's Tyron's ship," said Harriet.
"I don't have any money," said Steve. "But even if I did, I'd be daft to take that bet."
There was no sign of any suspicious package, beeping or otherwise, and Harriet was glad she hadn't ordered the entire spaceport cleared. Her plan was to get people to move back from the landing pad, but as it turned out there was nobody here.
If there was a bomb, which was highly unlikely, it wouldn't damage the armoured hull of a spaceship … or at least, she hoped it wouldn't.
Steve's exhausts burbled as he circled the ship, and Harriet hoped those aboard were getting a damn good look. So they wanted a Peace Force officer, did they? Well, let them come and get her. Once Bernie got there, the two of them would force the airlock, if necessary, and drag the whole sorry bunch down to the station to answer some very pointed questions.
That's when she heard the roar of a nearby engine. At first she thought it was the ship, getting ready to leave, but the exhausts were clear and there was no sign of smoke or heat haze. The roar grew louder, and Harriet twisted in her seat to see where it was coming from. To her right? "Steve, what's that noise?"
"Just a loader. It's heading towards the ship."
"To do what? Their hold is sealed."
"Maybe they're going to—"
The roar suddenly grew louder, and Steve shouted a warning. Before he could react, or get out of the way, a huge metal fork speared through Harriet's window, missing her face by millimetres and showering her with broken glass. The car was swept away by the impact, and her world rocked crazily as Steve was picked up bodily by the huge machine.
"Steve, reverse. Reverse!"
The cruiser's engine roared, but they were stuck fast. Then, before she could get free, the loader tipped them up sharply, depositing the cruiser on its side, before ramming them again, rolling Steve right onto his roof.
"Well, there goes my love life," he said morosely.
"This is not the time for jokes!" shouted Harriet. "Get moving, now!"
"I can't. There's no lift when we're upside-down."
Harriet cursed, and struggled with her seat belt. Meanwhile, the loader withdrew, and before she could free herself the door was yanked open. The belt came free but by then it was too late. Willing hands pulled her from the car, dragging her onto the concrete apron. A cloth bag went over her head, and her arms were wrenched behind her back.
"I'm with the Peace Force!" she shouted. She would have said more, but someone clamped a wet cloth over her face. She smelled the fumes through the hood, and her struggles became weaker and weaker as the chemical took effect. Her last
thought was that she'd been overconfident, again, and then she slumped in her captor's arms, unconscious.
— ♦ —
"Please proceed faster."
"Cannot comply. This is my maximum speed."
"I order you to move faster, in the name of the Peace Force."
"This is my maximum speed."
Bernie gritted her teeth, or would have done if she had any. In her youth she could have outrun the car with ease, but her failing motors and her reliance on an under-powered emergency battery pack meant she was at the mercy of public transport. "If I am late, I will have you crushed."
"This is my maximum speed."
"My officer is in danger. Accelerate."
"This is—"
CRUNCH!
Bernie flexed her arm, casually crushing the speaker set into the dash with her huge fist. It didn't make the car any faster, but it did improve her mood. Then she noticed a flashing sign on the dash, warning her of a fine for malicious damage, so she crushed that, too. "Go ahead," she growled. "Report me."
The car slowed momentarily, as though it were going to pull over. Bernie bunched both fists, spoiling for a fight, and the car sped up once more. To her pleasure, Bernie noticed they were now travelling two kilometres per hour over the speed limit.
They approached the spaceport, where she opened the door to speak with the guard. She didn't bother with little details like door handles, she just gave it a bit of a push with her elbow. With a creak of tortured metal, the door popped open, only to hit the concrete wall around the guard's cubicle. Bernie was still pushing, and the door bent double with a groan. "Have you seen my Officer?" she asked the guard.
He closed his mouth, and nodded.
"Which way did she go?"
The guard raised his finger, pointing across the landing field. Bernie saluted him, sounding a hollow clang from her forehead, and then instructed the cab to drive on. The ruined door caught on a metal post and tore off completely, spinning in their wake like a potter's wheel.
As they navigated the busy landing field Bernie put her head out of the door, looking for the Peace Force cruiser … and Harriet. She was only halfway there when a siren sounded, and the ground crew and loaders retreated into concrete shelters with an ease borne of long practice.
"Get under cover!" someone shouted, as Bernie drove past. "Ship!"
Bernie didn't care about ships, since she was fireproof to a thousand degrees or more, and she certainly didn't give a fig for the cab. Therefore, she proceeded towards pad forty-seven. As she got closer she heard the rumble of a ship's engines, getting louder and louder as they built up to lift-off. Then, directly ahead of her, a graceful ship lanced into the air with a thunderclap, smoke and flame billowing from its thrusters.
The rolling cloud of smoke spread over the landing field, engulfing the cab. Fortunately, it could navigate using radar. Unfortunately, public safety rules forced it to pull over.
"Keep going!" shouted Bernie.
The cab was silent, which wasn't surprising as she'd smashed its speaker in.
Frustrated beyond measure, Bernie got out without bothering to remove the seatbelt. When she first got in, she'd tried pointing out that the seatbelt was unnecessary, but the cab quoted safety regulations and insisted. That's when Bernie first developed her dislike for the annoying, pedantic little vehicle.
Now, with the seatbelt spooling out behind her like a cord on a vacuum cleaner, she strode into the cloud of smoke, looking for her trainee. She'd only taken three paces when the seatbelt tightened with a snap, but instead of breaking, it was strong enough for her to drag the cab along behind, scraping and sparking on its parking legs.
Impatiently, Bernie took the seatbelt in both hands and tore it in two, throwing the halves aside impatiently. Two more steps and she saw the outline of the Peace Force cruiser, but she realised immediately something was wrong: it was upside-down!
As she hurried forward, she took in the broken glass, the deep scoring in the cruiser's bodywork, and the open door. Crouching, she looked inside, but Harriet wasn't there. "Report!" she barked.
"They got her," said Steve. "I'm sorry, I couldn't do anything."
Bernie stood up, staring at the sky. Through the billowing smoke she could just make out a spark of light, getting smaller and smaller as the ship tore away from the planet.
Chapter 14
Bernie activated her commset. "Trainee Harriet, do you copy? Harriet, come in please."
There was no reply, and Bernie gave up. If Harriet had been captured and taken aboard the ship, they would hardly have left her with a Peace Force commset. So, Bernie called the spaceport control tower and identified herself. "I need you to intercept a ship," she said. "It just took off from pad forty-seven, and I suspect one of my officers is on board against her will."
"I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do."
"You can order her back."
"No I can't. She's halfway to orbit, and that's not my jurisdiction."
"Who should I call?"
"The orbiter might be able to do something."
"Very well," said Bernie. "Connect me to the orbiter."
There was a delay, and then a female voice came on. "Dismolle Orbiter, traffic control. How can I help you?"
Bernie got straight to the point. "One of my officers has been captured, and is being detained aboard a vessel which is currently leaving Dismolle orbit. You must intercept that vessel, free my officer, and detain the perpetrators."
"How am I supposed to do that? This is traffic control, not a team of interstellar crime-fighters."
"Don't you have patrol vessels?"
"We have one vessel, and it's in for a service right now."
"Then you must call in the Imperial Navy. Their warships—"
"You're kidding, right? I'd be out of a job so fast I wouldn't even have a chance to grab my coffee mug."
"Can't you try?"
"No. I like that mug."
Bernie realised the woman wasn't taking things seriously. "In the name of the Peace Force, I order you—"
"Wait, that ship you're after … it's on a gravity burn."
"What does that mean?" asked Bernie. Her database was extensive, but for some reason nobody though it necessary to give her in-depth knowledge of interstellar navigation.
"They're going to fly around the primary, accelerating to escape velocity, then use the boost to reach one of the outer planets. It's a trick to save fuel, but once you commit there's no turning back."
"One of the outer planets, you say?"
"Yep. Vasques or Cortes. I won't know for sure until they come out the other side. Hey, maybe you can call your officers on those planets, and have them meet the ship when it lands!"
"An excellent suggestion," said Bernie. "Thank you for your help." She disconnected, then turned and strode across to the stricken Peace Force cruiser. The paintwork was scorched, but not too badly, and the interior seemed intact. "Can you hear me?" she asked the car.
"Yeah, but your voice is upside-down."
"That is impossible."
"So is the idea of you getting a joke."
Bernie shrugged, and squatted next to the car, gripping the door sill with both hands. Then she stood up, easily rolling the car onto its side. A quick push, and the cruiser crashed down onto its belly, raising a cloud of dust. "Can you start your engine?" asked the robot.
As a reply, there was a low thrumming sound, and then the car rose into the air. It wobbled a little, and the nearside door was crumpled, but it was good enough for Bernie. She waited for the rear compartment to open up, then took the two small steps and ducked her head, cramming herself into the rear seat. "Back to the station, car."
"Harriet calls me Steve."
"A childish affectation. Simple, self-propelled mechanical devices do not require human names."
"Whatever you say … Bernie." Steve hesitated. 'What about Harriet? Isn't she coming?"
"Harriet has been detained, and will not be joi
ning us."
"Well that's a shame. I had her seat all warmed up and ready, too."
Bernie took out a charge cable and plugged in, sighing with relief as the current flowed. "Please hurry it up, er, Steve. Trainee Alice may also be in danger."
— ♦ —
Alice stepped out of the cab and jogged into the office, eager to tell the others about her school visit. Unfortunately, the place was deserted, so she went to find Dave Birch. He was busy with his manuscript, and barely looked up as she came in.
"Hi Dave. Any idea where they've gone?"
The elderly shop owner shook his head. "Bernie doesn't tell me what she's up to. I can barely get the time of day out of her."
"What about Harriet?"
"Beats me. She left before you did."
"She's still on that call-out? Must be something pretty juicy."
Dave shrugged. "She can't come to much harm in our little corner of the galaxy."
"Yeah. Sometimes I wish it was a little more exciting around here. You know … a few nightclubs, that kind of thing."
"How old are you again?"
"Don't start on me, or I'll nick all your chocolate when you're not looking."
Dave frowned at her from under lowered eyebrows.
"It was a joke!" protested Alice, and she headed out the back of the shop before he got her to turn out her pockets. Not that she'd steal from him, but she didn't want to explain the cash she was carrying. If the old guy from the hotel complained about his lightened wallet, it wouldn't take Bernie's massive processing power to solve that particular case.
Alice slumped down at her desk and eyed the screen, which was displaying her speech. "Won't be needing that any more," she said, and closed it. She noticed the file for her unfinished essay lurking in wait, and decided she'd done enough hard work for once day.
She was about to open up the armoury and try a few more codes on the locked pistol case when she heard the rumble of Steve's motors. They sounded rough, and when Bernie emerged from the garage moments later she was enveloped in a cloud of choking grey smoke. The robot strode into the office, scattering rubble and glass fragments, and Alice leapt up and ran to her. "What's going on?" she demanded. "What happened?"
