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.
