All very well for you, she thought. You don't have to give a speech.
"Officer Walsh?"
Alice jumped at the voice, and turned to see a middle-aged woman approaching. She was portly, with curly hair and a welcoming face, and as she got closer she put her hand out. "So nice of you to come, and at such short notice, too. The kids are really excited, let me tell you. They've never seen a real Peace Force officer before!"
"I—I hope I don't let them down."
"Oh, don't be silly. They'll eat you up!"
"That's what I'm afraid of," muttered Alice.
She followed the woman down the hall, and as they approached the classroom door Alice felt her feet dragging. How many times had she joined a new school, followed a new teacher to a new classroom, sat there in silence while everyone stared at her, judged her, evaluated her? This was ten times worse, because she had to stand up and talk to them!
Alice's footsteps faltered, and she was on the point of turning her back on the whole deal. Bernie was asking too much. She'd joined the Peace Force, not a speech club! And anyway, Harriet should have done it. She was confident, and older, and so much better at dealing with people.
Then she pictured Harriet's face, when she learned that Alice had bailed. She'd be kind about it, sympathetic, but there'd be disappointment too. Plus Bernie would probably give her another handful of essays to write.
The moment of self-doubt passed, and Alice strode towards the classroom.
"In here, officer Walsh," said the teacher, and she put a hand in the middle of Alice's back and guided her inside.
Chapter 11
Bernie had arranged the thugs in a line, and her head turned from side to side as she observed her captives.
"What are you going to do with us?" asked the leader.
"Do not speak and do not move." said Bernie. Desperately, she suppressed her battery warning. She'd already been low on charge when Harriet left, and knocking down the factory doors had reduced her to no more than four percent. From long experience, she knew this allowed her maybe a dozen footsteps, one moderate code-cracking session, or ten minutes of conversation. Her only hope was to get one of the offenders to secure the rest, but in her haste to attend the callout, she'd neglected to bring any cuffs. Briefly, she considered breaking a leg on each offender, but she decided her battery probably wouldn't last.
No, what she needed was to switch to her emergency power supply, but she would be powered down for thirty seconds. Could she get these people to stand where they were that long? Trouble was, the more she thought the quicker she drained her power. Then she had an idea, and she faced the captives with her most forbidding expression. "I am about to scan your faces for identification purposes. Do not attempt to disguise your features. Please remove any caps, hats or other headgear. Please do not smile."
There wasn't much chance of that. Every one of Tyron's thugs looked like they were attending their own funeral.
"This process will take sixty seconds. If anyone moves I will have to start again. Each time you force me to start again, I will kill one of you."
The leader stared at her. "What?"
"Believe me," said Bernie calmly. "It is far easier to scan a body than a moving subject. Now, please stand still as the process is about to begin." Mentally crossing her fingers, she configured her emergency power supply and triggered a reboot.
Instantly, or so it seemed, she was back again. Unfortunately, the line of captives had vanished. Bernie glanced this way and that, scanning the area for the fugitives, and she felt a rising anger as she realised they'd all escaped. Didn't anyone obey orders anymore?
Then she noticed something. Rather than thirty seconds, her reboot had actually taken thirty minutes.
— ♦ —
Smith was hunched over the intercom in his cabin, waiting impatiently for news. He hated relying on others to do his bidding, preferring to get his hands dirty, but in this case it was unavoidable. Snatching the girl would raise a stink, and he wanted to be sitting aboard his ship ready to blast off. The thugs he'd hired could take their own chances.
The intercom buzzed, making him jump. "Yes?"
"The Spaceport has granted departure clearance. We can take off at a moment's notice."
"Dammit, don't bother me with details!" snapped Smith. "I'm waiting for a call, here."
"Sorry, sir. Flight deck out."
Smith drummed his fingers. What was taking so long? They ought to have the girl by now, and if they weren't already halfway to the spaceport he'd be furious. Maybe he should have gone along.
The intercom buzzed again.
"This had better be my call," snapped Smith.
"Er, yes. Putting them on now," said the crew member hurriedly.
"Hello? Hello? Are you there? What's going on?"
There was a crackle from the speaker, and then a woman's voice, rushed and out of breath. "Total failure, sir. It was a setup. The team's scattered, and—"
"I don't give a flying monkey about the team!" shouted Smith. "What about the girl?"
"She never showed! The leader reports a huge Peace Force robot showed up and knocked half the building down."
"A who did what?" Smith blinked. "Are your people drunk or something?"
"Negative. They managed to get away, but they tell me the robot is still out there."
Smith cursed, long and volubly. This planet was supposed to be about as secure as a cardboard safe. Who the hell brought in a giant robot? Then he had a sudden thought, and this one was much more positive. If a robot had attended this call, and Harriet was still out of the way … why not try a third time? "Listen, I want you to make another call to the station, and let's make it simple this time. None of this faffing around with abandoned factories in the warehouse districts.
