The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission by Raymond Klein (good books to read for women TXT) 📗

They witnessed what looked like small telecommunication devices that some were using. They passed antique shops, stopping occasionally to peer into the storefront windows, looking at the wares in amazement.

It was getting close to six o’clock and many of the people were gathering their things and heading home. The sidewalks started to get a little more congested.

“Perhaps we should try out our verbal skills. And maybe test out our human currency.”

Genghis lowered his head and whispered, “Yeah, we might as well. How about that male over there?” He gestured with his head. “He seems to be selling something.”

The man had a shiny cart hooked to the bumper of his car. Steam rose from the cart in little wisps. The man was gathering things and placing them into a cooler.

Trent and Genghis approached the man, who had his back to them. They stood there for a moment until the man turned around. “Oh, how yah doing? I’m about to close up, but I can get you a dog if that’s what you’d like.”

Trent was puzzled for a moment, “I, ah . . .” he glanced at Genghis. “I have one.”

“That you do, Mac.” He took a bun and slapped a hot dog into it. “What do you want on it?”

“On it? I, ah . . .”

“How ‘bout the works?”

“Boss!” Jeff responded using his newly required vernacular. “Yes, that sounds swell, proprietor.”

The man gave Trent a sideways glance, squirted some ketchup and mustard onto the hot dog, then topped it off with relish and diced purple onions. He handed it to Trent, “There you go. That’ll be two fifty.”

“This isn’t made of dog, is it?” Trent asked. Genghis cocked his head, ears pointed straight up.

The man laughed loudly and said, “God only knows buddy. God only knows.”

Trent reached into his inside trench coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed the man three ones and got change in return. Trent thanked the hot dog man and he and Genghis started again to walk down the sidewalk.

Trent sniffed at the dog and took a bite, “Hey, this is pretty good too,” he said with his mouth full. “If this is what the cuisine around here is like, this could be an enjoyable mission. Considering.”

He lowered the hot dog for Genghis, and he too took a healthy bite. “Mmm, not bad! Hope it’s not really canine.”

The sidewalk was a little more crowded with people now. Some shops were closing up. Some people were standing and talking, saying their farewells. Trent and Genghis finished their hot dog and were walking with the flow of people, just observing. It was then that Genghis noticed one particular human. He was about twenty feet in front of them. Walking with everybody else and constantly looking around. There was just something about him that looked off. Genghis looked at a couple of others on the sidewalk, then back to that human. “Do you see that human male over there?” Genghis whispered.

Trent looked around. “Which one? They’re everywhere.”

“That one ahead of us,” he motioned with his head. “White shirt, blue pants.”

“Oh, yes, I see him.”

“Do you remember,” Genghis whispered, looking around to see that no one was paying any attention to them, “a couple of years back, that stakeout we were on in Kenter? And we happened to stumble upon that narcotics deal just around the corner of us.”

“Yes. We called it in and it became a substantial bust. I remember.”

“Well, they drew our attention back then because they stood out in that area. They just didn’t fit in with everybody else. Wouldn’t you say the same about that human?”

“Yes, I see what you mean,” Trent said, observing the man.

Even millions of miles from home and in a different environment their police instincts were still very keen. The man was dressed in a dirty t-shirt and jeans, while everyone else was dressed in business or casual attire. He didn’t fit in.

Just then the man in the jeans started to walk a little quicker. He started to approach a woman from behind and then quickly and suddenly grabbed for her purse. She swung around and shouted. She held tight to the strap. The man in the jeans started pulling. It was a tug of war struggle for the purse. He then took the palm of his hand and shoved her hard in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground.

“HEY!” Genghis blurted out.

“He pushed her!” Jeff Trent said in disbelief. Chivalry was far from dead in their culture. “He pushed her right to the ground!”

The man in the jeans yanked one more time and achieved his goal. He then turned and ran down the sidewalk bumping into pedestrians as he went. Jeff Trent and Genghis Khan instinctively started to pursue. Trent ran as fast as his new human legs could go while Genghis trotted beside him.

Then it happened.

Genghis was not sure how or why, but he took a giant stride and before he knew it, he was ten paces in front of Trent. His spine flexed, leg muscles tensed, paw pads gripped for traction. And he was twenty paces in front of Trent.

The man in the jeans ran down the sidewalk and darted into traffic. Brakes squealed, horns sounded. People started to look in the direction of the commotion. Genghis blew by the woman as she was getting to her knees. Genghis did not lose focus. He did not take his eyes off the man in the jeans. His legs pumped faster, objects in his peripheral vision went by in a blur.

Trent reached the woman as she was standing. “Madame, are you hurt?” he asked, slowing down, but not stopping.

“That bastard stole my purse!”

“Yes, we know,” he called over his shoulder, as he started running again in the direction of his partner. “I have to catch up to my human canine!”

“Your what?” The women called back. Then she too started running after Trent.

The man in the jeans made it across the four lane brick roadway and ran into a park where