"I can see that." Tyron nudged a bottle with his toe. It rolled across the hold to the jump drive, vanishing into the darkness under the long, rounded cylinder. "One of you check with the others. See if there's anything."
"Yes sir."
After exchanging a glance with the woman, the man left the hold. She remained, her own hand hovering over the butt of her weapon, and Sandon's hopes fell at the sight. He was an old man, and although he might just have moved quick enough to surprise Tyron, who was standing nearby, this woman was another matter. He'd be gunned down before he took two steps.
"So, have you lost anyone's cargo recently?" asked Tyron conversationally, while they were waiting. When he didn't get a reaction, he laughed. "You know, you're taking this very calmly."
Tyron was right. He was taking it calmly, and he wondered whether it had anything to do with Rebbie. Once he'd made the decision to send her planetside, to a proper school, the weight of responsibility had lifted from his shoulders. He'd promised her parents, years earlier, that he'd bring the girl up should anything happen to them, and he'd taken his promise seriously. Now, though, it was time to let go. But that didn't mean giving up without some kind of a fight. "Computer," he said, raising his voice. "Is there any sign of that Family ship we're meeting?"
"I do not know of any such meeting."
"Nice try," murmured Tyron.
"They're on the way. I put out a call when you started following me."
"What are they going to do? Banish me? Half of them are convinced you stole my goods, and the others don't care either way."
"For the last time …"
Sandon's voice tailed off as Tyron's men returned to the hold.
"Nothing, sir. The ship is clean."
"Well, that's that." Tyron drew his gun and gestured with it. "Kneel. I'll make it quick"
"No," said Sandon firmly.
"As you wish." And with that, Tyron raised the gun and shot him three times in the chest.
Chapter 8
Tyron was jolted from his memories by the buzzing of his intercom. It took a moment before he could see past the flashes of gunfire, the sound of the blasts, the look in Sandon's eyes as he died, but then Tyron shook himself and addressed the mic. "Yes?"
"Outside call, sir. It's your agent."
"Put 'em on."
There was a click. "Tyron, Harriet Walsh just left the Peace Force building."
"Give her time to get clear, then make the second call."
"Will do." There was a pause. "We could go in and snatch the girl."
"Forget it. It's a Peace Force station. They'll have cameras, security … and guns."
"We don't need her alive."
"Can you guarantee that?" demanded Tyron. "What if I get the damned box open, and there's something in there only she can read? What if it leads me to a second box? You want to drag her corpse along on a treasure hunt?"
"It depends how valuable the treasure is."
"Just make the call. And stop questioning my orders."
"Orders, is it? What happened to cooperation?"
There was a click, and the speaker went dead.
Smith felt the empty holster at his side. Customs had gathered all their weapons on arrival, using portable scanners to ensure there were none hidden away. "I hate this planet," he muttered under his breath.
— ♦ —
"This is the Dismolle Peace Force," said Bernie. "How may I help you?"
"I can see a couple of kids smashing windows."
"Really. Can you describe these … children?"
"They're wearing jeans, and they've got hoodies."
Bernie glanced at Alice, who was slowly adding sentences to her speech. Fortunately, the young trainee couldn't hear the conversation, since Bernie was diverting her voice directly into her comms module. "We've already despatched an officer to the crime scene. Please await her arrival."
"Wait! What officer? This is the first time I've called."
"Are you in the commercial district off route nine?"
"Nowhere near. This is the office district on the way to the spaceport, at the intersection of routes two and twelve."
Bernie frowned as she checked a map. The caller was on the opposite side of the city from the original report, the one which Trainee Harriet had responded to. It was almost as though someone were trying to cause the Peace Force as much inconvenience as possible, spreading them out so much they would be unable to attend should any further crimes be reported. Still, the Peace Force was duty bound to protect the people of Dismolle, even if said people were a downright nuisance at times. "Very well, madam. I will despatch an officer to your location as soon as possible."
"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
