Table of Contents
Alpha Minor
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
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Publication Details
The Hal Spacejock Series
The Mysteries in Metal series
The Secret War series
The Harriet Walsh series
The Robot vs Dragons trilogy
The Hal Junior Series
How to Write a Novel
Short Fiction by Simon Haynes
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Alpha Minor
Book 2 in the Harriet Walsh series
Copyright © Simon Haynes 2018
Release v 1.01
Bowman Press
Written and published using yWriter by Spacejock Software
Stock images © depositphotos.com
3D models © cgtrader.com
This novel, like the author, employs British spelling.
Chapter 1
The powerful Peace Force cruiser made short work of the late afternoon traffic. The blazing sirens and high intensity lights were completely unnecessary, since the rest of the cars were automatically shunted aside by their programming, but Harriet Walsh had them switched on anyway. The people of Dismolle weren't used to having the Peace Force around, and sometimes she felt like giving them a little reminder.
There was barely enough clearance between the slower-moving cars, and they rocked on their anti-grav cushions as the heavy cruiser belted past with millimetres to spare.
Harriet's eyes narrowed as she saw her target ahead. "Steve, call the station."
"Calling the Peace Force station," said the car, in an even male voice.
"Bernie? It's Harriet."
A deep, female voice came through the speakers, speaking slowly and precisely. "Yes, Trainee? How may I help you?"
"I have the target vehicle in sight," said Harriet urgently. "Can you authorise an intercept?"
"Negative, Trainee. I will authorise no such action." Bernie's tone was severe. "You will follow the vehicle to its destination as agreed."
"Oh, come on! That could take all evening!"
"There will be no intercepts. Please do not ask again."
Muttering under her breath about stubborn robots, Harriet cut the call. "Steve, can you get in front of that car?"
"I can, but you heard Bernie's orders. An intercept is not permitted."
"Who mentioned intercepts? Just get in front of it."
"Now who's being stubborn?" said Steve, but he obeyed her all the same, and with an effortless burst of power they closed the gap. Green cross-hairs tracked the slower vehicle on the windscreen as the cruiser approached, whizzing down the side windows as they sped by. Harriet glanced over her shoulder and saw the occupants deep in conversation, paying no attention to the traffic - or her. They didn't even look up at the sound of her siren.
When they were safely ahead of the other car, Harriet groaned loudly.
"Harriet, are you all right?" asked Steve in concern.
"I think I'm going to be sick."
The car was silent for a moment. "That would be unpleasant."
"It usually is."
"I meant for me," said Steve. "What should I do to prevent this?"
"How about pulling over for a minute? It's just motion sickness."
"I cannot. Stopping here would block the traffic."
"Oh dear." Harriet put a hand to her mouth. "I think it's too late."
Steve reacted immediately, braking hard and coming to a halt across both lanes. All the other cars stopped automatically, lining themselves up along the sides of the freeway so there would be room for an emergency vehicle to reach the seemingly broken-down Peace Force cruiser.
Once she was sure she wasn't going to get run over, Harriet jumped out and strode up to the target vehicle, which had stopped about four rows back. She had a satchel in her gloved hand, and as she approached the car she donned her official Peace Force hat and readied her ID. Not that she expected the occupants to run away, but it paid to follow procedure.
The occupants were still talking away, blithely unaware of their surroundings. That changed when Harriet rapped on the windscreen with her badge. The three elderly ladies sitting in the car lowered their knitting and peered at her, having difficulty making out her identity with the setting sun behind her. Then the windows went down.
"Oh look, Esme," said a woman in a pink cardigan. "It's that nice young lady from the Peach Force."
"I think you mean Preach Force," said Esme, an elderly woman with a blue-rinse hairdo. "I hear they have cells where they make you pray."
"You're both daft," said the third occupant of the car mildly. She was the youngest of the three, hardly a day over eighty, and she had a fashionable sweater and an impressive string of pearls. "She's Peace Force. You know, the police people."
"Do we have police people?" asked Esme. "Trudy? Do you know?"
"I thought robots did all that sort of thing," said Trudy.
"Good afternoon, ladies," said Harriet, touching a forefinger to her hat. "Harriet Walsh, of the Dismolle Peace Force."
"Are you arresting us?" asked Esme. "Was our car going too fast?"
The car had barely been doing twenty, which was the speed most Dismolle residents preferred. Ninety percent of the population was long past retirement age, and they did not like fast vehicles. "No, ma'am."
"Esme."
"No, Esme," said Harriet obligingly. "Your vehicle was travelling at exactly the right speed."
"So why did you stop in the middle of the road?"
"I was responding to a code green-zeta."
"Ooh. Is that the one where someone got murdered?"
The younger of the three women rolled her eyes. "Don't be a leg of mutton, Esme. She means you left your bag at the shops. Again."
Harriet blinked. "How did you know that?"
"I'm Agatha Foster, head of the Dismolle Residents' Association."
"Yes, but that doesn't explain how you knew—"
"My late sister was Superintendent of the Chirless Peace Force. She used to discuss her work with me. Far too much, in my opinion." Foster gave Harriet a look. "I assume you got the required authorisation for this intercept?"
"Er…"
"I thought not." Foster frowned at her. "I appreciate you bringing Esme's bag, but I've half a mind to report you to your superior officer."
"Um," said Harriet, still lost for words.
