"No need," said Alice. She reached into her jacket and took out a small, U-shaped device, activating the contact. Immediately, a bright blue spark connected the open ends, and she swiped it across the hasp of the padlock. It went through the hardened metal with absolutely no resistance, and the padlock clattered to the floor.
"I thought that was supposed to be in the evidence room?" said Harriet.
"Just as well it isn't," said Alice shortly. She switched it off and tucked it away, then reached out and pulled on the door.
It didn't move.
She tugged harder, and then Harriet and Birch joined in. It gave a little, and then, with the bottom of the door grinding on the loose stones and grit, they managed to open it fully.
The stairwell was in pitch darkness, and as Alice peered over the railing she wondered what the Chirless station held in store for them all.
Chapter 8
Harriet peered over Alice's shoulder, looking down the stairwell. It was dark, but she could make out stacks of cardboard boxes lining the walls, leaving only a narrow passage to the ground floor.
Alice opened a nearby box and pulled out a wad of paperwork. "See, this is why Bernie shouldn't make me write essays. A few weeks from now, our station will be clogged like this one."
"They're the old records," said Birch.
"What, on paper?"
"Nobody ever hacked a printout," said Birch, with a shrug. "Computers, on the other hand … well, let's just say our Super hated the things."
"Do you know where the light switch is?" Harriet asked him.
"They were automatic in my day." Birch glanced up. "I'm guessing there's no power."
Alice raised one hand. "I vote hotel. Seconds?"
"We're checking this place out first," said Harriet firmly. "The power might just be down to a switch in the meter box."
Alice eyed the dusty cartons. "If the rest of the place looks like this, I'm sleeping in my ship."
"Can't we fly back to Dismolle?" asked Birch.
Harriet and Alice exchanged a glance. "Do you really want to ask Bernie for fuel money?" said Harriet at last.
"It's not that we'd run out," explained Alice. "But now that she's filled Arnie up, she's going to want it to last more than a couple of days."
"Oh. Let's go find the main power switch."
They took the stairs, stepping carefully around the stacks of boxes. As they got to the first landing, a dim light came on overhead, showing them the way. "That's encouraging," said Harriet.
"Not really," said Birch. "It's just a battery backup."
They reached the ground floor, and Harriet opened the stairwell door. They trooped into the main office and stopped. Not long ago, the Dismolle station had been damaged in an explosion. This was even worse. The emergency lights provided just enough illumination, and they revealed a litter of broken furniture, stripped computer terminals, and drifts of food wrappers and waste.
"It's not too bad," said Alice at last. "I mean, if you take away the broken desks, the graffiti …"
"Underneath all this, it looks just like our station," said Harriet.
"Smells like it too," remarked Alice.
Birch took a deep breath. "Ahh, that takes me back."
"To where?" said Alice, giving him a look. "The city dump?"
"It's that old Peace Force smell. You can't mistake it."
"I don't want to mistake it, I just want to avoid it." Alice angled a keyboard to the light, then dropped it hurriedly. "If Bernie asked me to type an essay on this, I'd quit on the spot."
"I'll find the power junction," said Birch, and he headed off to the entrance.
Meanwhile, Harriet grabbed a table and righted it. "See if you can find anything to sit on."
Alice went off to the staff room, and while she was gone Harriet went to the armoury. The door was open, and apart from a couple of moth-eaten jackets, it was bare. Before entering the station she'd been hoping to find something they could take back to Dismolle, but it looked like they were out of luck.
She went back to the office and dragged open the door to the garage. To her surprise there was a cruiser parked inside, and lying on the floor next to it was a familiar shape: a BNE-II crime-fighting robot. It was lying face-down, and Harriet ran over and crouched next to it. She reached out to turn it over, and sat down with a thump as the robot rolled over easily.
Too easily. The robot was only a shell, the insides long since stripped. Well, thought Harriet, it's not a complete loss. Bernie could probably use the panels for spares.
She turned her attention to the car, putting both hands to the dusty window to peer inside. It looked intact, and when she tried the door it opened smoothly. "Hello?" she said.
There was no reply.
Steve, the patrol car at the Dismolle station, usually activated whenever she went near him, but this one looked like it had been dormant for years. The inside was neat and tidy, unlike the rest of the station, and that pleased her. Someone had looked after the car, which made a nice change. Most Peace Force equipment seemed to get abused until it broke or wore out.
She glanced around the roomy garage, which appeared to double as a workshop. There was a workbench with a couple of pieces of machinery, all rusty and covered in dust and cobwebs, and the walls were lined with shelves. There were plastic tubs on the shelves, many of them cracked, and when she peered inside a couple she saw rusty metal parts whose use she could only guess at. Repairing the cruiser, perhaps? Or had someone rented the garage as a workshop after the Peace Force moved out?
Harriet wiped her rust-streaked hands on a piece of rag, idly patted the car on the roof, and returned to the office. Alice had found three chairs, and Birch was back from his power-enabling mission. Since the lights were
