BooksBarbecue
Back Doing Time
Chapters (52)
  1. Title
  2. Copyright
  3. About the Book
  4. About the Author
  5. Also By
  6. Contents
  7. Dedication
  8. Roll Call
  9. A Brief History of the Time Wars
  10. Jane
  11. Luke
  12. Matthew
  13. 1
  14. 2
  15. 3
  16. 4
  17. 5
  18. 6
  19. 7
  20. 8
  21. 9
  22. 10
  23. 11
  24. 12
  25. 13
  26. 14
  27. 15
  28. 16
  29. 17
  30. 18
  31. 19
  32. 20
  33. 21
  34. 22
  35. 23
  36. 24
  37. 25
  38. 26
  39. 27
  40. 28
  41. 29
  42. 30
  43. 31
  44. 32
  45. 33
  46. 34
  47. 35
  48. 36
  49. 37
  50. Epilogue
  51. Author’s Note
  52. A Note on Recruitment

He was aware he was disliked. Regarded with suspicion. He’d spent a large part of his life at Time Police HQ – possibly more than with his parents at St Mary’s – and they still didn’t trust him. On the other hand, he’d always known his life here wouldn’t be easy so he couldn’t complain. Well, he could, but he didn’t.

This – or something like this – happened to him occasionally now he was a member of the Time Police and attitudes towards him had hardened. Notices inviting people to report instances of bullying were posted at regular intervals throughout the building, but never acted upon, because it was generally recognised that if you couldn’t handle a bit of high-spirited mischief from your colleagues then you weren’t going to be much use in a tight situation. And – the old favourite, of course – if you couldn’t take a joke, then you shouldn’t have joined.

The group of men spread out across the corridor. His heart sank. He didn’t recognise any of them but he recognised the type. These were older officers. Grunts. Not high rankers. Officers who’d been in a long time and would never rise any higher. Officers with fondly held memories of the good old days. When things were done the way they should be and they had the authority to do it. When people did as they were told or else. When people respected the Time Police properly. When being a Time Police officer really meant something.

They came with built-in resentment. Their lack of promotion would always be someone else’s fault – never theirs. They were dimly aware that the organisation was changing around them but lacked the flexibility or intelligence to adapt. They were the sort who caught all the dull and dirty jobs if there were no trainees to do them. Old-fashioned in their outlook, they were being left behind in Commander Hay’s new Time Police and they were about to take their resentment out on him.

‘Look,’ said someone. ‘It’s the St Mary’s runt.’

‘Is it?’ said another. ‘’Cos with all that hair it looks like a girl to me.’

His tone implied that not only was girl the lowest of the low, but that there were far too many of them in the world who didn’t know their proper place in the scheme of things.