Harriet Walsh 01: Peace Force

by Simon Haynes

  As soon as she heard the voices, Bernie groaned. "No, no, no. Stop playing that. Stop it right this instant!"

  "Now what?"

  "That's an unauthorised recording. Do you know how much paperwork that involves?"

  "Forget about your damned paperwork for a minute," snapped Harriet. "Can't you admit I did well, just once?"

  Bernie studied her for a moment. "Meaningless compliments. Is that what you require?"

  "Well they're not exactly—"

  "Excellent, Trainee Walsh. Most impressive work. You'll be Captain before the week is out, I'm sure of it. In fact, you should run for office. I believe the President of Dismolle is retiring soon, and—"

  "All right, all right. You made your point. Just … you know, tell me if I did something right."

  "Trainee Walsh, you have exceeded my expectations, and so far the mission has gone surprisingly well."

  Harriet's face fell again. "What do you mean 'so far'? I found out what the guy does, I got the name of his contacts, I found out where they were meeting and …" she paused as she realised what was coming next. "Oh, no. You don't mean —"

  "Indeed, Trainee Walsh. Covert surveillance is an important weapon in an officer's arsenal."

  "It's the only weapon in our arsenal," muttered Harriet.

  Bernie held up the commset. "Despite your completely illegal recording, you have managed to identify their meeting place and it would be a shame to miss the opportunity for further training."

  "But Canitt knows me! I can't just sit at the next table." Harriet frowned. "And do not, whatever you do, ask me to dress up as a waiter with a moustache and a fake accent. I was lousy at drama."

  "I admit, you raise a valid concern." Bernie thought for a moment. "However, we will risk it. I have just inspected stills of the restaurant interior, and like many such establishments they employ naked flames for illumination."

  "They have candles on the tables. Right."

  "And they have booths, with screening."

  "That's so people can make out in the darkness."

  "Mating rituals in a public eatery? Who would do such a thing?"

  "You obviously didn't go to my high school." Harriet gestured impatiently. "Anyway, it's dark and there's cover. I can work with that."

  "Then you believe it is possible?"

  "Possible, yes. Wise, no." Harriet shrugged. "I'll do it, though. And if Canitt sees me I'll just say I really, really wanted that job."

  "Job?"

  Harriet cursed under her breath. The one thing she didn't want to tell Bernie, and she had to blab it just like that! "He offered me a job with the company. It was nothing, he was just making conversation."

  "You did not report this fact to me during your debrief," said Bernie severely. "Omitting facts is just as bad as lying, and Peace Force officers do not lie."

  "Oh, will you stop with the moral code? I'm on my first day here, you chucked me in the deep end and I'm swimming like a maniac. Cut me a bit of slack, okay?"

  Bernie looked around in confusion. "There is … water?"

  "It's just an expression. What I meant is … go easy on me, okay? I'm doing my best."

  "And your best is most adequate," said the robot.

  "Gee, thanks." Then Harriet thought of something. "Shouldn't we organise a booking? You know, before they fill up?"

  "I have already done so."

  "Oh, good. It would have been just my luck if all the tables were full."

  "There were full, but I … removed one of the guests."

  "Let me guess, you accessed the restaurant booking system."

  "No, I accessed the state lottery and awarded the couple in question a modest prize. They are to collect it at one tomorrow, which means they will have to cancel their lunch."

  "Nice! And … wow. You can rig the real lottery? So why run a fake one?"

  Bernie pursed her lips. "I had to transfer the winning ticket from another person. Those people then had to receive a ticket from a third person, and then …"

  "I got it, I got it. It's like your financial scam all over again."

  "Scheme, Trainee Walsh. Please refer to it as a scheme."

  "Yes sir, Bernie. Now, about my prisoner … Alice. I'm thinking it's about time I went home, right?"

  "Indeed, you must leave soon or I will have to authorise overtime. And the paperwork —"

  "Yes, I got it," said Harriet hastily. "Now, instead of me hanging around here to feed the girl, why don't I take her home with me? I'll put her up for the night, feed her, and bring her back in the morning."

  "You wish to house a known criminal in your apartment?"

  "She's just a kid," said Harriet. "An eighteen-year-old kid," she added, before Bernie could bring up minors again. "I think she's a good person, she's just down on her luck."

  "This is a very unwise course of action."

  "What's the worst that could happen?"

  "She could steal everything you own and cut your throat."

  "All right, what's the second worst thing?"

  "She could steal all your belongings."

  "Well, hah. I don't have any."

  "And then, disappointed at her meagre haul, she might cut your throat out of spite."

  "I've only got a butter knife, and it wouldn't cut a bowl of jelly. I think I'm good."

  "Are you certain?"

  "Bernie, that girl … it could have been me. When my parents —" Harriet swallowed. "When Auntie took me in, I went off the rails for a bit. I could have ended up like Alice, but look at me now."

  "You are broke and all but homeless, Trainee Walsh."

  "Yes, but I'm an officer of the law. I'm meant to do good things, Bernie. I can feel it."

  Finally, after a bit of persuasion, Harriet got her way. While Bernie went to the cells for the pickpocket, Harriet collected her uniform and belongings from the locker room. On the way back she filled a mug with tap water. She didn't believe a word of Canitt's wild theory, but if the water on Dismolle was dosed she might as well take advantage of it.

  When the big Peace Force robot returned, 'Alice' looked around the empty station, then stared at Bernie and Harriet. "An officer and a robot for the whole planet?" she snorted. "Once word gets out, this place will be swarming with crooks."

  "I believe you offered Officer Walsh a bribe," said Bernie.

  "It was worth a shot."

  "Do you believe bribes are effective?"

  "Sure. Try me."

  Bernie took out a heavy silver bangle. It had several charms on it, which caught the light as they dangled from the robot's fingers. "This item was in lost property, but nobody has claimed it. If you promise to keep quiet about the undermanned Dismolle Peace Force station, it can be yours."

  Alice reached for the bracelet, but Bernie held it up. "If you promise."

  "Is that real silver?"

  "Oh yes, very real."

  "Solid?"

  "As solid as it looks."

  "Bernie, that could be worth a fortune," said Harriet. "You can't just—"

  "I promise," said Alice quickly, and in return, Bernie gave her the bracelet. She looked at it closely, then slipped it over her wrist, admiring the pure silver against her slightly grubby skin.

  Harriet watched her, envious. She didn't care about jewellery, but where had this lost property office been earlier, when she was trying to raise money with those damn lottery tickets? They should have had a yard sale instead! Then, with a shrug, she moved to more pressing matters. "Have you been on Dismolle long?" she asked Alice.

  "No, I stowed away on a freighter from Vasquez. They caught me, made me clean the whole thing top to bottom, then slung me off on this dump."

  "So you've only just arrived?"

  "Just this morning." The girl noticed the mug, and licked her dry lips. "I could murder a drink."

  "Sure," said Harriet. "It's just tap water, but it's fresh." And, according to Canitt, laced with some kind of sedative, but she decided not to mention it.

&n
bsp; Alice drank it down quickly, then set the mug on the nearest desk. "So what's the plan? Are you going to shoot me at dawn, or do I get a trial first?"

  "I'm going to put you up for the night. I'll get some food in for both of us, and there's a bed in the spare room you can use."

  Alice looked surprised. "Really?"

  "Yeah, but I'll shoot you myself if you nick anything."

  "All I want is a shower," said the girl wistfully. "That freighter was filthy."

  "No problem. I even have hot water, now the power is back on."

  "Why are you doing this?" asked Alice suddenly.

  "Someone once did the same for me," said Harriet. "Someone very special." She paused for a moment. "Okay, let's go. I'll get Steve to run us home."

  "Steve?" said Bernie. "Who is Steve?"

  "That's what she calls her car," said Alice.

  "A Peace Force cruiser is not to be used for personal transport," said Bernie. "And as for giving it a name …"

  "Sorry, BNE-II," said Harriet. "I won't make that mistake again."

  "Hmph. Well anyway, you cannot take the cruiser home."

  "He was going to take me. I sort of promised."

  "Negative, Officer Walsh. You will take a cab."

  Harriet shrugged.

  "I see how it is," said Alice. "You've given your robot a name, you've given the car a name, but I'm the thief, or the pickpocket, or hey you."

  "We know your name," said Bernie. "Officer Walsh told me it's Alice."

  The girl opened her mouth to reply, then caught Harriet's theatrical wink. "Oh. Well, you're allowed to use it now and then."

  "Come on, Alice," said Harriet. "Shopping first, then home."

  Chapter 12

  Since it was nearby, Harriet decided to pick up some things from Birch's shop. It was still open, even though it was after six, and Birch was still sitting at the counter reading the same pages. Nothing else had changed either, and she wondered what it would be like to sit around day after day, waiting for customers. Then again, it wasn't much different to a career in the Dismolle Peace Force.

  "Evening to you both," said Birch, with a nod. His eyes lingered on Alice, and Harriet saw a slight hardening of his expression. Nothing wrong with his instincts, then. Or maybe he just didn't like piercings and tatts.

  "Just need a few things for dinner."

  "Help yourself." Birch studied Harriet for a moment, as though deciding whether to say more. "Can I have a word? In private?"

  "Sure." Harriet gave Alice a basket. "Help yourself. Try not to fill it with junk food."

  "Are you kidding? He's got real fruit!"

  Smiling to herself, Harriet followed Birch into a back room. It was a small office, where a desk was hemmed in by laden shelves. Each was crammed with files, all neatly labelled and arranged in date order. "Are these your old Peace Force cases?" she asked, looking around in wonder.

  "No. Accounts for the shop."

  "Oh."

  "Who's the girl? Is she a friend of yours?" said Birch, nodding towards the open doorway.

  He was facing the shop, and Harriet realised it was deliberate. It was so he could keep an eye on Alice. "I caught her stealing a wallet at the spaceport. We're not sure what to do with her yet."

  "Book her. That's the usual."

  "It's a bit more complicated than that."

  "Oh. Hard luck story, am I right?"

  Harriet shook her head. "Not really. Not a sob story, at least. Apparently she's a stowaway, and when the crew discovered her they made her clean their ship and then kicked her off at the spaceport."

  "Do you believe her?"

  "She was hanging around the spaceport, so the part about getting kicked off a ship could be true." Harriet paused. "Yes, I believe her."

  "Can I give you some advice?"

  "Sure."

  "Don't do it. Don't listen to the hard luck stories, and don't take any strays in." Birch spread his hands, forestalling her protest. "I know, I know, you're doing a good deed … turning her life around."

  "She's all skin and bone, Dave. Are you suggesting I turn her out on the street?"

  "I'm saying you should leave rehab to the professionals, Harriet. Otherwise you're going to get hurt."

  There was genuine concern in his eyes, probably from a painful episode in his past. Harriet wanted to ask about it, but now wasn't the time so instead she moved to reassure him. "She can't hurt me, she's just a girl."

  "Not physically, but she'll let you down and you'll blame yourself." Birch sighed. "It's a heavy burden, and one you don't have to bear. Why don't you concentrate on arresting bad guys and keeping the peace instead?"

  "On Dismolle?" Harriet nodded. "Okay, sure."

  He smiled. "You're not going to pay the slightest attention to me, are you?"

  "Nope."

  "Fair enough. I won't say I told you so."

  They returned to the shop, where Alice was waiting at the counter. Harriet was expecting a basket brimming with sugary food, and she was surprised to see a modest selection of fruit and veg. "Are we going on a diet?"

  "Well I don't need to," said Alice pointedly.

  "Oh, really? I ran faster than you, didn't I?"

  Alice was silent, and Birch grinned as he ran the shopping through. When he was done, Harriet paid for the things and turned to leave.

  "Just a minute," said Birch. "Let's have the rest of it."

  "What do you mean?"

  He nodded at Alice. "Pockets. I saw you take that chocolate bar."

  "I didn't take anything!" protested Alice hotly.

  "You won't mind turning them out, then."

  With a white, angry face, Alice turned out her pockets one by one. They were all empty.

  Birch looked at her thoughtfully, then spread his hands. "Sorry, my mistake."

  "Sorry?" said Harriet quietly. "Is that it? Just … sorry?"

  Birch shrugged. "Guess my eyes aren't what they used to be."

  Harriet said nothing, but her look spoke volumes. "Come on, Alice. Let's get out of here."

  As they left the shop, she heard Birch's parting shot.

  "You can't straighten a bent arrow, Harriet Walsh. Trust me, you'll be disappointed. I've seen it before."

  Outside, Harriet strode along the pavement, not even sure where she was going. She was absolutely furious, steam practically jetting from her ears. Beside her, Alice was half-running to keep up. "Don't be mad," she said. "You get used to it, I promise."

  Harriet stopped and faced her. "I'm sorry. Being accused like that, when you did nothing wrong. It sucks."

  "He used to be a cop, right?"

  "Yeah. I guess the old suspicions never die."

  "Nothing wrong with his eyes, though." With a twitch of her fingers, Alice plucked a chocolate bar from Harriet's pocket. She tore the wrapper and took a big bite. "Want some?" she said, through a mouthful.

  Harriet stared at her, mortified. "What … how … where?"

  "I slipped it in your pocket when the old guy wasn't looking. He was never going to search a golden-haired Peace officer, was he?"

  "I stood up for you in there!"

  Alice shrugged. "Hey, I'm a thief. It's what I do."

  "I'll have to grovel next time I see him." Worse than that, she thought, what if everything he said about Alice was one hundred percent right? What was she letting herself in for? "Boy, is he going to rub my nose in this."

  "Whatevs. Choc's good, if you want some."

  "I hope you choke on it," muttered Harriet, and she waved down a cab.

  * * *

  Harriet opened the door and let Alice into the apartment. She'd found an official-looking letter in the mailbox, sent by the hospital that had treated her aunt. Ten to one they wanted a donation towards a memorial garden or something, and while it was a nice thought she just wasn't ready to deal with it.

  Meanwhile, Alice had completed a quick tour of the apartment. "They don't pay you much in the Peace Force, do they?"

  "I only ju
st started."

  "When, last week?"

  "No … today," said Harriet reluctantly. "I just signed on this morning."

  Alice was not happy. "You mean I got busted by a trainee? Damn, that's embarrassing."

  "Doesn't say much for your skills, does it?"

  Alice ignored the comeback and looked in the fridge. "It's empty. Where's the rest of your food?"

  "Gee, I don't know, maybe someone stole it. You can't trust anyone these days." Harriet tossed the unopened envelope on the table and put the shopping away. Most of it was fruit and veg, and she guessed Alice hadn't seen a whole lot of that in space. Harriet was still angry, and the sudden realisation that Alice had probably spent most of her life flitting around the galaxy didn't improve her mood. "Do you know how to cook?" she demanded.

  "What am I, little miss homemaker?" Alice saw Harriet's expression, and relented. "I just eat whatever I can get my hands on, you know? There's not a lot of time for recipes."

  "No, you're right. Just … sit down, and I'll put something together."

  "Can I grab that shower?"

  "Sure. Don't steal the soap."

  "Ooh … zing." Alice left the kitchen, but a second later she put her head around the door. "Thanks, by the way."

  Harriet remembered Birch's warning. "Don't make me regret it." Then she set about dinner, putting together a simple stir fry. She didn't have half the things Auntie used to put in, but she figured Alice wouldn't be fussy.

  She was just setting the table when Alice came back, her short hair tousled and damp, and her face scrubbed and clean.

  "Smells good, what is it?"

  "Family recipe," said Harriet shortly. "Sit, I'll fill your plate." As she was fetching the pan, she realised she still didn't know what Alice was actually called. "By the way, what's your real name?"

  "Alice will do."

  "But …"

  Alice took a big mouthful of stir fry, then shrugged and indicated her bulging cheeks. Harriet got the message: Subject closed. However, there were still things she wanted to know. "How did you end up stowed away aboard that freighter?"

  "It's how I get around," said Alice indistinctly. She was eating quickly, emptying her plate as though she was afraid someone would snatch it away. "Used to travel with my uncle when I was smaller. He ran his own ship … an old bucket of bolts she was, but it got us around. He ferried cargo here and there, made a bit of money but never quite enough." Her face changed, her expression pained. "One day, he died."