plastiglass window. “Hi, constable. Is there a problem?”
The officer leaned down, his chapped lips a flat slash of impatience. Marlowe found himself staring at his own reflection, which looked very uncomfortable and furtive.
“What’s the matter? You look like you’re hiding something from me. Are you hiding something from me?” Trooper Biff’s gruff voice matched his physical appearance – mean, intimidating, and clearly not a voice to hide something from if you valued your continued good health and liberty.
“No sir, constable. I’m not hiding anything. Just nervous, you know.”
“Nervous?” The grim lips, if possible, tightened into an even narrower line. “If you’ve nothing to hide, why are you nervous?”
He flipped up his mirrored visor in a slow, deliberate manner, revealing first a wide, crooked nose with a tuft of thick nasal hair billowing back and forth with each frosty, liver-and-onion scented breath, and then two nervous, familiar-looking faces staring back from a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He thrust a compact VID scanner into Marlowe’s face.
“License and registration, please.”
“I thought you already grabbed those from-”
“Are you refusing to comply with my order?” Trooper Biff cracked what might have been the merest hint of an eager smile as his free hand went back to the butt of his plasma pistol.
“No, sir, constable. License and registration, coming right up.” Marlowe’s sweaty hands ran over the control console built into the dash, initiating the requested transfer. The small scanner flashed a green light, which caused the trooper to frown with disappointment.
“Right, everything here seems to be in order. It matches what your car sent over a moment ago.” Marlowe couldn’t see the trooper’s eyes, but he guessed that behind those mirrored lenses, a colossal battle to suppress his disappointment was being waged. A moment passed, and then trooper Biff regained his icy composure.
“Any idea how fast you were going back there?”
“50 kph. Got a repair weevil working on the car, couldn’t go any faster. And, according to the traffic beacon transmitting out here, that’s the posted speed limit.”
The trooper paused, his sallow face changing to a faint shade of red. “Good, just testing your, uh, situational awareness. Uh, good, glad you know. Just checking.” He stood there awkwardly for a second, possibly thinking. If it was thinking, it looked to Marlowe like it was slow going. It seemed that Marlowe’s deviation from the norm of terrified acquiescence had thrown the trooper off. Perhaps he wasn’t used to it. This suggested a new approach to dealing with the constable.
“You know why I pulled you over?”
Marlowe crossed his fingers, hoping this worked. “Not really, Major Biff, though if I had to guess, I’d say on the orders of CMP Obedere.”
“That’s ri-” started Trooper Biff, only belatedly catching himself. “No. That’s not right. I pulled you over because we received an anonymous tip that there is a citizen in this vehicle who doesn’t have a BB gun.”
Marlowe dropped his jaw in what he hoped was a suitable display of shock and disbelief. “A citizen without a BB gun! But that’s unthinkable. Let me assure you, Major Biff, that I would never be party to such a crime. Is there anything we can do to help clear this up?”
“Actually, if you could both show me your BB guns, nice and slow, please.” He allowed himself a huge grin as he turned to Nina. “You first, ma’am.”
He’d tensed up a bit, his grip on the butt of his pistol tightening. Nina looked a little flustered, patting down her pockets.
“Where is that BB gun? I know I put it on this morning. Where did I put it?”
Nina was either very perceptive, or very foolish. Marlowe hoped it was the former as he wiped sweaty hands on his seat cushion. Trooper Biff had
The officer leaned down, his chapped lips a flat slash of impatience. Marlowe found himself staring at his own reflection, which looked very uncomfortable and furtive.
“What’s the matter? You look like you’re hiding something from me. Are you hiding something from me?” Trooper Biff’s gruff voice matched his physical appearance – mean, intimidating, and clearly not a voice to hide something from if you valued your continued good health and liberty.
“No sir, constable. I’m not hiding anything. Just nervous, you know.”
“Nervous?” The grim lips, if possible, tightened into an even narrower line. “If you’ve nothing to hide, why are you nervous?”
He flipped up his mirrored visor in a slow, deliberate manner, revealing first a wide, crooked nose with a tuft of thick nasal hair billowing back and forth with each frosty, liver-and-onion scented breath, and then two nervous, familiar-looking faces staring back from a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He thrust a compact VID scanner into Marlowe’s face.
“License and registration, please.”
“I thought you already grabbed those from-”
“Are you refusing to comply with my order?” Trooper Biff cracked what might have been the merest hint of an eager smile as his free hand went back to the butt of his plasma pistol.
“No, sir, constable. License and registration, coming right up.” Marlowe’s sweaty hands ran over the control console built into the dash, initiating the requested transfer. The small scanner flashed a green light, which caused the trooper to frown with disappointment.
“Right, everything here seems to be in order. It matches what your car sent over a moment ago.” Marlowe couldn’t see the trooper’s eyes, but he guessed that behind those mirrored lenses, a colossal battle to suppress his disappointment was being waged. A moment passed, and then trooper Biff regained his icy composure.
“Any idea how fast you were going back there?”
“50 kph. Got a repair weevil working on the car, couldn’t go any faster. And, according to the traffic beacon transmitting out here, that’s the posted speed limit.”
The trooper paused, his sallow face changing to a faint shade of red. “Good, just testing your, uh, situational awareness. Uh, good, glad you know. Just checking.” He stood there awkwardly for a second, possibly thinking. If it was thinking, it looked to Marlowe like it was slow going. It seemed that Marlowe’s deviation from the norm of terrified acquiescence had thrown the trooper off. Perhaps he wasn’t used to it. This suggested a new approach to dealing with the constable.
“You know why I pulled you over?”
Marlowe crossed his fingers, hoping this worked. “Not really, Major Biff, though if I had to guess, I’d say on the orders of CMP Obedere.”
“That’s ri-” started Trooper Biff, only belatedly catching himself. “No. That’s not right. I pulled you over because we received an anonymous tip that there is a citizen in this vehicle who doesn’t have a BB gun.”
Marlowe dropped his jaw in what he hoped was a suitable display of shock and disbelief. “A citizen without a BB gun! But that’s unthinkable. Let me assure you, Major Biff, that I would never be party to such a crime. Is there anything we can do to help clear this up?”
“Actually, if you could both show me your BB guns, nice and slow, please.” He allowed himself a huge grin as he turned to Nina. “You first, ma’am.”
He’d tensed up a bit, his grip on the butt of his pistol tightening. Nina looked a little flustered, patting down her pockets.
“Where is that BB gun? I know I put it on this morning. Where did I put it?”
Nina was either very perceptive, or very foolish. Marlowe hoped it was the former as he wiped sweaty hands on his seat cushion. Trooper Biff had
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