by Simon Haynes
"You'll have to do better than that. They're causing hundreds in damage!"
Bernie weighed up her options. Could she put the caller off until Trainee Harriet returned? No, Harriet was still en route to her own call-out. Instead, Bernie glanced at Alice, her face thoughtful.
"Please, you must hurry." The woman's voice was desperate. "Someone might get hurt!"
"Very well," said Bernie, having made her decision. "An officer will attend immediately."
"You'll send someone right away?"
"That's what immediately means," muttered Bernie. What was it with humans and their limited understanding?
"I'm sorry, what?"
Bernie had forgotten to switch her digitiser from speech to thought. It was a rare mistake, and she put it down to her low battery charge. "That last did not concern you," she said quickly. "I was thinking about a Trainee I have to send on a particular mission."
"Just … get on with it!"
The caller hung up, and Bernie strode over to the desk where Alice was working. "Trainee Alice, there has been a development."
Alice looked up hopefully. "School's cancelled?"
"Negative."
"Damn. I hate writing essays."
"You are supposed to be writing a speech."
"Same difference."
"In any case, you have very little time, and we must discuss the situation. Please pay attention, and I will be as brief as possible."
"Okay, but only if I can pinch that line for my speech."
— ♦ —
Alice left the Peace Force building a few moments later, munching on a chocolate bar she'd bought from Birch on the way. She was dressed in the grey Peace Force uniform she'd borrowed earlier, when she attended the so-called burglary. Bernie told her it was meant for senior officers, but since the rest were too big it would have to do. Alice frowned at that - for a major crime-fighting organisation, it was odd how much they had to struggle for everyday items like uniforms. A few extra guns wouldn't go astray either, and as for catching cabs …
She strolled towards the main road, enjoying the chocolate bar, and barely noticed the man walking in the opposite direction. He was moving quickly, with his collar drawn up, but Alice didn't spare him a second glance because at that moment the cab drew up alongside her.
Alice hopped in, gave the address, then sat back to endure the ride. Bernie had tried to explain what she was getting into, and she just hoped she could cope with the situation when she got there.
A long-forgotten memory surfaced, and she smiled grimly. When this mission was over she'd treat herself to an ice cream. Two, if she had enough money.
— ♦ —
"Are you sure?" demanded Tyron Smith.
"Certain. I just walked right past her. She got into a cab right outside the building."
"Good, tell the others to stand by." Smith felt a surge of elation. The girl was out of hiding at last! "I want this done right … and whatever you do, make sure you bring her in alive."
Chapter 9
Harriet got Steve to cut the sirens and lights as they turned off the main road, taking a smaller street between rows of older warehouses. She stared up at the buildings, wondering how they'd ended up in such disrepair. Some looked abandoned, and she began to feel suspicious. She glanced at the screen. The report had come from a building just ahead, but it looked like another abandoned warehouse. All the windows were broken, and if any kids were going to toss rocks they'd be wasting their time with this place. She was now convinced the call was a hoax, designed to get her out of the office. The only saving grace was that Smith didn't know about Bernie, and she smiled grimly at the thought of him coming face-to-face with the huge Peace Force robot. Let him try and get to Alice!
Steve pulled into a car park, which was thick with weeds growing through the cracked tarmac. The rough surface didn't bother the cruiser, which glided through the air blasting the weeds into atoms. Then the car came to a gentle halt, the landing legs popped out to support its weight, and the engines whined down to silence.
"Do you detect any life forms?" asked Harriet, peering through the windscreen at the run-down building. It didn't look like anyone had been here for years, but she needed to check it out.
"Sorry, that function is not available."
"Can't you enable it?"
"Not unless you upgrade to the next licensing tier."
"Yeah, no. Bernie would have a fit." Reluctantly, Harriet undid her seat belt and prepared to get out. Steve helpfully opened the door for her, even though she'd rather have stayed inside.
The first thing she noticed was the complete silence. No traffic noise, no sounds of civilisation, nothing. She wasn't that far from the main road, but it was like she'd set down on an uninhabited planet. As Harriet walked towards the warehouse, her boots crunched loudly on the gritty surface, and she was certain people could hear her progress for about about a block in every direction. They could probably hear her heartbeat, too, because it was going about twice the usual rate.
On her way to the building she passed a couple of shattered wooden pallets, and she picked up a length of wood to defend herself with. Unfortunately it weighed about as much as a sheet of paper, and when she gripped one end in her gloved hand, the rotten material crumbled to dust. She pulled a face and threw the rest aside, brushing her hands together to get rid of the fine powder.
Harriet entered the shadows at the base of the building, where broken windows gaped like empty eye sockets. At some point the building had been set on fire, because there were great sooty trails above every window, and the fierce heat had twisted the window bars into fantastic sculptures. As she got closer she tried to pull one free, to use as a makeshift weapon, but they were anchored firmly.
She heard a noise and spun round, but there was nothing. Spooked, she put her back to the wall and crept to the nearest window, raising her head slowly to peer inside the building.
Nothing.
Dust from the brickwork left streaks on her dark blue uniform, and when she brushed it off the cloud of particles made her sneeze. The sound was like a gunshot, and she stood still for a few seconds, listening. Then she continued past three more windows, reaching the corner of the building. She peered down the side, past a litter of broken pallets, tattered plastic sheeting and broken glass. If she went down there, she thought, there was a good chance she'd twist her ankle.
She decided to check down the other side, then call it in. Moving quicker now, she strode along the front of the building, past the empty windows with their ruined bars. At the far end, she didn't hesitate: she walked straight round the corner … and stopped dead. The call said two kids were throwing rocks, but that wasn't entirely accurate. Instead, she was facing two large men, each holding a length of iron bar. Harriet took one look and turned to run, knowing immediately that she could never hope to fight them off.
Before she could move another man stepped out of the shadows, directly in front of her. He was well-built, dressed in oily overalls like the first two, and he was holding a length of wood like a club. Worse, his wood was firm, and it didn't look like it would crumble to her touch.
Harriet's blood ran cold, and she cursed her over-confidence. She should have stayed in the car, or better still, driven right past the damn warehouse. She'd guessed it was a trap, but she'd decided to walk right into it anyway. Now, all she could do is try and talk her way out. "I'm Harriet Walsh, with the Dismolle Peace Force," she said, her voice firm. "Did one of you call the station to report a couple of kids throwing rocks?"
"Like we'd call the cops," said the nearest man, with a snort.
Harriet was encouraged. At least he hadn't taken a swing at her. "Did Smith send you down here?"
"Common name, that."
"Tyron Smith. He's an off-worlder."
One of the men behind her spat on the ground. "I ain't getting paid for talking. Let's finish this."
The men began to close in, and Harriet looked around in vain for an escape r
oute, her heart pounding in her throat. They were hemming her in, and once they were close enough she was done for. Her only hope was the one guy on his own, between her and the car park, since he couldn't block the alley by himself. Going the other way, towards the two men, would be suicide.
Harriet feinted to the right, and as soon as the man began to move she darted to the left. He turned quickly, swinging the length of wood with both hands, and she felt the wind of its passing as she dodged under the blow. Then she put her head down and ran for it. The men cursed behind her, the nimble move having fooled them all, but seconds later she heard pounding footsteps as they chased her.
"Steve, open the door!" she shouted, as she raced towards the cruiser.
The engines fired up with a blast of smoke, and the car lifted off its landing gear, the struts folding away neatly as it hovered in mid-air. Harriet was ten metres from the cruiser now, and she could feel the men breathing down her neck.
As she approached the patrol car, Steve turned side-on and opened the driver's door for her. Harriet didn't pause, she took three long strides and dived headlong into the waiting vehicle, landing heavily across both seats and the centre console.
Winded, she could only hang on for dear life as the car blasted away from the car park, her legs still flailing out of the the open door. There was a loud CLANG as one of the men threw his iron bar, and then they were clear.
Harriet twisted and turned until she was more-or-less sitting up, yanked the door to, then sat back and stared at the roof, still breathing heavily. She reckoned that was the most frightened she'd been in her entire life, and now that she was safe the reaction set in. Her hands began to shake, and her legs felt like jelly.
"Are you okay, Harriet?" asked Steve.
"Thanks to you," she managed at last. "You're a life-saver."
Chapter 10
"The boss just called. He says the girl is on the way, and you'd better be ready." The speaker was a tough-looking woman with braided hair and a large silver skull-head piercing in one cheek. She was carrying a metal bar and a black cloth bag, and as she spoke she took the bar and hammered it on the tin wall. There was a tremendous crash, and the two men who hadn't been paying attention jumped up, scattering playing cards. "I will leave broken bones," said the woman quietly.
"We're supposed to bring her in alive," said one of the men.
"Who's talking about the girl? It's your bones I'm gonna smash." The woman used her rod to point out several vantage points in the cavernous warehouse. "You two, over there. Either side of the doors, cover the entrance. You, in the middle behind the crates. The rest of you, take cover and only show yourselves if I call out."
They moved into position, their footsteps echoing in the large building's interior. The warehouse was mostly empty, with only a few stacks of mouldering boxes offering any clue as to its original purpose. The woman didn't care what purpose it used to have, because right now it had to become the perfect ambush. If she failed, Smith would make her pay.
The thugs had barely taken their positions when they heard a car approaching the front of the building. The car came to a halt just outside, and the whine tailed off to a low idling sound. The tough-looking woman stood in the shadows near the big entrance doors, black cloth bag at the ready. When the girl walked in, she planned to capture her quickly, without fuss. Bag over the head, arms behind the back, then rush her to the waiting vehicle parked behind the warehouse. She'd done it many times before, and she had the whole process down to a fine art.
Thud! Someone slammed a car door, and then … silence.
Everyone tensed, the woman included. They were only facing a teenage girl, but she was still an officer in the Peace Force, and despite Smith's assurances she might very well be armed.
— ♦ —
Alice's cab turned off the side street and pulled into the car park outside a big building. There was a flight of steps to the double front doors, and she couldn't help noticing the brickwork was run-down, and badly in need of fresh paint. The building had a derelict look to it, and the area around it wasn't much more than scrub and dried grass.
Alice got out slowly, eying her surroundings. Her heart was beating fast, and she drew her Peace Force jacket tight, subconsciously shielding herself. The cab drove off with a whirr, leaving her standing there, alone, in a cloud of dust.
She felt it was really lousy of Bernie to send her on this thing. She had no training, no experience, and if she got it wrong she'd suffer the consequences for the rest of her life. Still, she was Peace Force, and that meant putting on a brave face and living up to the uniform. It was only a school visit, after all, and how bad could a bunch of kids really be?
Standing slightly taller, Alice squared her shoulders, put on her game face and ran lightly up the stairs to the Dismolle Primary School.
— ♦ —
Inside the warehouse, everyone was tense. The cab had now driven off, and there'd been no hint from outside to let them know what the Peace Force officer was doing. They strained their ears, hoping to hear footsteps on gravel, something, anything to give them a clue. Was the officer sneaking round the back of the building, trying to catch them unawares? Was—
Thud!
The men jumped at the sound, exchanging glances. It sounded like something heavy had landed just outside, shaking the ground. Was it a squad of imperial troops, abseiling down from a vessel hovering overhead? Were they about to face an overwhelming force, instead of a defenceless teenager?
Thud!
The men tightened their grips on their metal bars, and puzzled looks were exchanged. Was the girl lugging a giant hammer into the building, thumping it on the ground as she walked?
Thud!
This time the noise was just outside, and the doors shook on their hinges. They were big doors, chained together in the middle, with a smaller access door cut into one of them. Despite their size, they'd shaken as though they were made from paper. The woman kept her eyes on the small access door, waiting for the moment it started to swing open, her fingers gripping the heavy black fabric as she prepared to pounce.
Instead, the big doors shook, and the chain holding them together rattled against the rusty metal frame.
"That's not—" began one of the men, but he got no further.
Something struck the doors a massive blow, and the heavy chain parted as though it were made from rotten string. Fragments of chain links whirled through the air, punching holes through the rotten boxes littering the warehouse, ricocheting off the concrete floor, and narrowly missing several of the crouching men. The same massive blow that destroyed the chain also blew the doors inwards, thrusting them apart as though someone had rammed them with a space ship.
Clouds of dust billowed through the doors, filling the warehouse, and, shocked by the violence and power of the blow that had demolished the entrance, the woman's nerveless fingers relaxed, letting the black fabric hood drop to the floor.
"In the name of the Peace Force, you will all surrender!"
It was a female voice, loud and metallic, and the woman realised they'd been fooled. The girl had a megaphone, that was all! She must have used a charge of some kind to blow the doors, and she was relying on surprise to cower them into submission.
Her confidence returned, and with a loud cry the woman scooped up the hood and ran for the entrance, screaming for her men to join her. She saw a shadow in the clouds of dust and altered course, running towards it full tilt.
As she got closer she raised her hands, spreading the bag so it would go cleanly over her victim's head.
As she got closer still, she realised she was going to have to stretch up high, because this teenager was tall.
Then the dust cleared, and the sight that met her eyes was enough to bring her to a terrified, screeching halt. Instead of a skinny teenager with a borrowed uniform, she was facing a huge Peace Force robot. It didn't seem to be armed, but it didn't have to be. A robot could turn anything into a weapon, simply by throwing it hard
enough. A handful of gravel? Buckshot. A length of metal? A deadly, whirling scythe.
"Ohhh crap," muttered the woman, and the bag fell from her fingers for the second time.
"Nobody move," said Bernie calmly. Without looking, she addressed the rest of the men, who were frozen like a tableau of living statues. "The first one to twitch, dies."
"Sh-should we raise our hands?" asked one of the men nervously.
"Why?" asked Bernie, puzzled.
"To show we mean you no harm."
"You? Harm me?" Bernie looked genuinely surprised. "How?"
— ♦ —
While Bernie was scaring nine shades of brown out of Tyron's thugs, Alice was waiting patiently at the primary school's reception desk. The inside was brighter and more welcoming than the drab exterior, with artwork by the kids adorning the walls, impressive honour boards with names of past students, cabinets with sports trophies and smiling photographs of all the teachers, past and present. She'd attended several schools as a child, having moved around a lot, but she didn't think she'd seen one with an exterior quite so run down. Obviously, the people of Dismolle didn't put a lot of money into the school system.
Alice had already filled out the visitor's log, and was wearing a sticky label with her name on. The receptionist had gone off to find a teacher, and the hall was still and quiet. The only thing she could hear was her heart, which was pounding in her chest. She hadn't admitted it to Bernie, but the idea of standing up and talking in front of any group terrified her, and the closer the moment came, the more she wanted to turn and run. What if they got so bored they asked the teacher to give them a math lesson instead? What if she ran out of things to say ten minutes in, and had to resort to describing the items in her pockets?
Her insides felt like ice, and she took several deep breaths to try and calm herself. Come on, she thought to herself. What would Uncle say, if he saw you like this? You were always bold and brash, Rebbie. Smart and quick. Never the nervous wreck. Go in there and show them who's boss!