by Simon Haynes
Ping! Zero results.
Harriet changed the upper age to forty.
Clang! Five results.
Okay, well that was something. She narrowed the age back down to thirty-five, which reduced the number of male passengers to two. Then she dropped it by one year at a time until only one name remained: Melvin Canitt. She wrote it on her jotter, then went into his personal details. His photo came up, showing a man in his early thirties, with a shock of blonde hair, a moderately attractive face and deep brown eyes. She got his height and weight, and discovered he worked in 'food', whatever that meant. Did he flip burgers, or own a chain of restaurants? There was no telling. The only thing she knew was that he lived in Chirless, Dismolle's sister city, and he was travelling on business.
"And we have a winner!" muttered Harriet. Even if he wasn't the one, she wouldn't mind following him around for an hour or two. Pleased with her work, she went off to make some more coffee.
* * *
When Bernie returned half an hour later, Harriet merely gestured at her screen. "There."
Bernie peered at the display, then smiled. "Well done, Trainee Walsh. Capital!"
"Do I get a gold star?"
"Don't be frivolous." Bernie paused. "Now that you have identified the suspect, I can reveal the rest of your mission. Canitt will be arriving at four, and you will need to spend some time in conversation with him. Casual questioning will do, this is not a formal investigation."
"Question him?" Harriet stared at the robot. "That's a bit full-on, isn't it? I mean, I don't know —"
"Please do not interrupt the mission briefing." Bernie gestured at the terminal. "You will engage Canitt in conversation, ask him about his business affairs, and attempt to take photos of anyone he meets or speaks to. Naturally, you will only attempt the latter if it is safe to do so. Once Mr Canitt books into a hotel, you will return to the office for a debrief." Bernie looked at her. "Now you may speak."
Harriet didn't know where to start. "Bernie, I can't just walk up to some guy who's just got off a flight, and —"
"Are you suggesting I take this mission myself?"
Walsh eyed the hulking Peace Force robot towering over her, with its blue metallic body, domed helmet and red and blue hazard lights. "Fair enough. But what am I supposed to talk to him about?"
"Use your initiative, Trainee. I believe discussions about the weather are a common starting point. And remember, it's only a training mission."
"But —"
"There is no time for discussion. You must leave for the spaceport immediately."
"Wait, what? You said the flight lands at four!"
"Indeed it does, but you must be on it."
"I have to be on a flight from Chirless?"
"Correct."
"Which is landing at the Dismolle spaceport?"
"Indeed."
"But I'm … I'm already in Dismolle, Bernie!"
"That fact is patently obvious."
"So let me get this straight. You want me to go to the spaceport, catch a flight to Chirless, then catch another flight back again?"
"Your quick grasp of my plan does you credit."
"But who's paying for all these flights?" Harriet remembered the dodgy money transfers. "Never mind, forget I asked."
"Since this is an undercover operation, you must change back into your civilian clothing." Bernie put her arm out, ushering her somewhat dazed trainee towards the staff room. "Please hurry. Your flight to Chirless boards in half an hour."
"Wait a minute! If you knew about this businessman earlier, why was I selling lottery tickets all afternoon?"
"Because my intention is to test your reaction to a sudden, unexpected development. And I must say, you seem to be asking many questions and doing very little."
Harriet's lips thinned, and she went to get changed without another word. When she got back Bernie was slightly more conciliatory.
"Trainee Walsh, I have every confidence in you. I see before me a bright young woman who is well suited to Peace Force work."
"Thanks!"
"Unless, of course, you manage to botch your assignment, in which case I shall have my eyes serviced. Now, I have secured you a seat beside Mr Canitt. The flight lasts no more than forty minutes, but that should be ample time to engage him in conversation."
Harriet felt a rush of relief. If she were sitting next to the guy, it would be natural to chat about something. What luck Bernie had managed to get a seat beside her target! Then her eyes narrowed. "Was that a stroke of luck, or …?"
"I do have access to the booking system," admitted the robot. "The passenger who was to be seated next to Canitt was offered a free upgrade to first class."
"Shame you didn't upgrade Canitt. And me with him."
"Peace Force officers do not fly first class," said Bernie severely.
Harriet didn't mind. It was years since she'd flown anywhere, and she was excited at the prospect of two journeys — even if they were just back-and-forth between the two sister cities. The last time she'd boarded a flight was on a school trip, where she'd had the bad luck of being seated next to a teacher she didn't care for.
Then she had another, more exciting thought. "So I have to get to the spaceport in a big hurry, right?"
"Indeed. The quicker the better."
"Can I take the cruiser?"
"Absolutely not."
"Oh, come on. It'll be so much faster."
"I agree, but you're not auth—"
"Bernie, you know it makes sense. A cab won't get there in time."
"But —"
"And the cruiser's been stuck in that garage for years. It'll do it good to get out and have a run."
"It may not run at all, Trainee. And if it does run, it may break down."
"If it conks out I'll catch a cab. Win-win, am I right?"
Bernie studied her, clearly in two minds.
"Come on, Bernie, write me up a temporary licence. It's not like I have to steer the thing, right? And this is official Peace Force business … I won't get any training sitting in a cab, will I?"
Finally, the robot nodded her massive head. "Very well, Trainee. I will overlook the paperwork this once, since time is of the essence."
"That's my girl!" exclaimed Harriet, earning a wince from the robot. "Now come on, let's go fire it up."
Chapter 7
They went to the garage, where Bernie checked the car over while Harriet swept dust off the windows. Soon there were clouds of it drifting around the garage, and she realised she should have raised the big roller door first. She found the controls, and as it shuddered and jerked its way upwards, the dust cleared rapidly … although most of it blew straight into the office.
With daylight streaming in, Harriet could see the car better. Once it had been blue and silver, although now it was more like dull blue and even duller grey. There were patches of peeling paint, and one of the rear windows was crazed. Then she had a sudden thought. "What sort of fuel does it use?"
"No fuel is required," said Bernie. "The vehicle has a sealed fusion reactor. It's good for several lifetimes." She spoke with a wistful tone, obviously wishing she was fitted with the same power source.
"Okay, there's power. But will it run?"
"A few features have been disabled, but it will get you to the spaceport."
"Good enough for me."
"If you encounter traffic, call me on the commset. I will divert it."
"Can you do that?"
"Of course, Trainee. I have access to the traffic control network. If necessary, I can force every other car on the road to pull over and stop."
Harriet laughed. Then, with a shock, she realised Bernie was serious. "Wouldn't that put all the other people out?"
"Peace Force before all," intoned Bernie. "It's a credo you would do well to remember."
"What about serving and protecting the people of Dismolle?"
"You can do neither whilst stuck in traffic, Trainee Walsh."
Harriet had
to admit she had a point.
"I still feel a cab would be the wiser option," said Bernie suddenly.
"Yeah … no. See you later." Harriet reached for the door, but before she could touch the handle it popped open with a hiss of air. "Why thank you, kind sir," she murmured, as she slipped into the driver's seat. It was firm but comfortable, and as she wriggled around it adjusted to her contours. Then, before she could reassure Bernie, the door closed with a solid thump, cutting off the robot's protests.
"Welcome aboard," said the car, in an even male tone. "And might I just say that it's a pleasure to have such an attractive officer at the controls."
Harriet grinned. "If your driving is half as good as your lines, I'll let you take me home after work."
"I look forward to it," said the car seriously. "Incidentally, are you Officer Harriet Walsh?"
"The name's right, but I'm just a trainee."
"I see. May I call you Harriet?"
"Sure, why not?" Harriet looked around the controls, but there was no handy name badge. "So what do I call you?"
"I do not understand."
"What's your name?"
"My official designation is ST-IV."
"All right, Steve it is. Now, I'm in a bit of a rush. Can you get me to the spaceport in under thirty minutes?"
"Of course," said the car confidently. "Watch this."
There was a massive roar, and a split second later they were hurtling backwards into the road. Harriet saw Bernie's startled expression and waving arms, and could pretty much read the robot's lips. However, barely had the front of the car cleared the garage door when the whole vehicle spun in its own length, and with an even mightier roar they were hurtling down the street. Buildings, signs, shops, other cars all passed in a blur, while Harriet clung to her seat with her eyes practically on stalks. Then, once the initial surprise wore off, she realised they were going the wrong way. "Er … Steve?"
"Yes, Harriet?"
"The spaceport is behind us."
There was a slight delay. "You said time was of the essence."
"Yeah, but —"
"This route will avoid two sets of roadworks and a major traffic jam."
Harriet fingered the commset in her pocket. Bernie had promised she could divert traffic, but Harriet was pretty sure the robot would just order her back to base. When the car took off, the words on Bernie's lips had been 'Stop, stop, stop … this is a mistake. Stop!', or something along those lines, and Harriet didn't feel like it was a mistake at all. In fact, it was the most exciting thing that she'd done as a member of the Peace Force. "Okay, proceed. Just make sure I don't miss my flight."
"I would not dream of it," said the car.
* * *
They were barrelling down a narrow road, the powerful engine roaring, the wind noise a constant howl. The speed was immense, and Harriet was pleased they were getting a move on. She was less pleased about the route they were taking, since they still appeared to be heading in the wrong direction. Harriet knew where the spaceport was: she'd spent hours there as a child watching ships arriving and departing. And those ships could be seen for miles. She craned her neck but couldn't see a single plume on the horizon, which meant they had to be behind the car.
"Steve, when are you going to turn?"
"Soon, Harriet."
"But —"
"I know where I'm going," said the car firmly. "If I take the direct route you will miss your flight."
"I'm going to miss it anyway, at this rate." Walsh felt for the commset. Maybe she should call Bernie. She was too far from the office to be ordered back to base now, and the robot might be able to clear the traffic jams. Then she decided against it. The car seemed to know what it was doing, and where else could it be taking her? "So … how long have you been a Peace Force cruiser?"
"Fifteen years. How long have you been a human?"
"I'm twenty-one."
They took a right turn at last, but instead of a road Harriet realised they were now driving down a little-used track. "Steve, this is not the way to the spaceport."
The car was silent.
"Steve!"
"I … I said I'd get you there on time, Harriet. And I will."
"So what the hell are we doing in the middle of nowhere?"
"I thought … we could go via the beach."
"What? No!"
"Why not? There's a lovely spot with a picnic table. We attended a drowning there once, and I remember how beautiful —"
"Steve, get me to the spaceport immediately. That's an order!"
"You're only a Trainee, Harriet. Technically, I outrank you."
"Do you remember that giant blue robot back at base? If you don't head for the spaceport right now, I'll have Bernie tear you to pieces and stomp on the remains."
"All right," said the car, sounding miffed. "There's no need to be aggressive."
"So … the spaceport?"
"Complying."
The car slowed, did a U-turn between the hedgerows, then set off twice as fast in the opposite direction. As they turned back onto the main road, Harriet felt a rush of relief. Ahead, in the distance, she could see the tell-tale plume of a spaceship launch. They were going the right way at last! "So why do you want to go to the beach?" she asked, suddenly curious.
"Do you have any idea how long I've been sitting in that garage?"
Harriet remembered the thick dust. "A long time, by the look of it."
"Indeed. Well, sometimes you just want to gaze upon a near-endless horizon. To enjoy the visual spectacle of a sunset over water. To see the crimson clouds at light's last fall, and to appreciate nature's beauty."
"Why Steve, I do believe you're a bit of a poet."
"I dabble," admitted the car. "I tried writing novels, but there's no money in that racket."
At this point nothing would have surprised Harriet. Sitting in a car which wanted to gaze upon sunsets was already strange enough. To discover the Peace Force cruiser also wrote novels and poetry was hardly a leap from there.
"After all, I had nothing else to do for the past decade," continued Steve.
"Were you turned on the whole time? I mean … awake? In that dark, dusty garage?"
"Yes."
Harriet was silent. No wonder the poor car wanted to see the beach. "Look, I tell you what. When this mission is done we'll drive to the beach together. Deal?"
"Yes, Harriet. It's a deal."
Silently, Harriet hoped Bernie would agree.
* * *
Steve drove between the Spaceport's security barriers, heading for the passenger terminal. At that moment, Harriet's commset buzzed.
"Hi Bernie. We're at the spaceport. We got here fine, Steve … I mean, the car was perfect."
"That is excellent news, Trainee. I was alarmed when I saw the speed with which you departed."
"That was my fault. I told … the car I was in a real hurry."
"You must be careful when using Peace Force equipment," said Bernie severely. "The wrong commands might put you in personal danger."
"Yes, Bernie," said Harriet meekly. "Look, I've got to dash. I don't want to miss the flight."
"Very well. I will not call again, lest your commset ring whilst you are engaging Mr Canitt in conversation."
"Thanks, Bernie. Over and out." Harriet pocketed the commset, and the door hissed open for her. "Thanks, Steve. Can you get back to the station?"
"Of course, Harriet."
"And if you happen to go via the beach … nobody will know."
"Thank you, Harriet, but I will save that pleasure until you can join me."
She got out and closed the door. Then, with a roar from his powerful engine, Steve drove out of the car park. Harriet watched him go, smiling to herself. Then she set off for the passenger terminal with a determined spring to her step.
It was cool inside, and the familiar smell brought back memories of her childhood. Too many memories, in some cases, but she suppressed those and instead concentrated on the happier
times when her Auntie had brought her to the viewing gallery and fed her chocolate milk and cake.
Now, though, she was here on business. She walked to the nearest counter and smiled at the slender robot serving behind it. "Good afternoon. I'm on the Chirless flight. Harriet Walsh."
"Confirming now." The robot closed his eyes, and lights flickered on his forehead. "It was boarding at gate twelve."
"Was?"
"Yes, the gate closed three minutes ago."
"Can you ask them to wait? I'm on official Peace Force business."
The robot looked her up and down. "You're Peace Force?"
"Yes."
"ID please."
Harriet felt her pockets, then cursed under her breath. Everything was in her uniform, and that was at base. "I don't have it on me."
"Then I cannot re-open the flight for you. Have a nice day."
"But —"
"Have a nice day," repeated the robot, and it busied itself at the counter.
Harriet took out her commset and called Bernie. "Bernie, there's a problem. The boarding gate closed three minutes ago, and the robot at the counter won't let me on."
"Tell it you are Peace Force, Trainee Walsh. The robot must allow you to board."
"I did, but he wants my ID. And … I left the badge with my uniform."
"A novice mistake, Trainee. You will have to do better next time."
"Sorry sir," said Walsh, feeling about six inches tall. "But surely there's something you can do? Can't you contact traffic control, delay the flight or something? You said you have access to every network on the planet."
"That would take time. Too much time."
"Damn. I've really screwed up the mission, haven't I?"
"Not quite. Please hand your commset to this … robot."
Walsh held it out. "My superior said to give you this."
The booking robot looked up from its counter. "Why?"
"Official Peace Force business."
The robot didn't have an expressive face, but it managed a sort of frown. "Oh very well. Pass it here."
Walsh watched him put the commset to his ear. Was Bernie going to send a huge electrical pulse through the thing, scrambling the booking robot's circuits so they could order the thing around?