Police Precinct 517

It speaks of quaint antiquity--at least it does when compared to any other locales. Built out of crumbling red-brick, this large hut-shaped building, is crammed on a corner between a sky-rise, and the Touchdown library. A navy blue roof --made of interlocking steel plates--is rounded on the top, the shingles overhanging in uneven rows. A simple pair of automatic doors opens into a spacious lobby. The feeling of antiquity fades there. Instead of anxious constables you find a gleaming palace of crime fighting technology, and an army’s efficiency. Androids bustle about with piles of paperwork, blending in with the people around them. Stainless steel desks litter the lobby--transparent wafers of light constantly running information. A single woman bustles around the lab with a small laptop--taking data. A gold-leaf star is inlaid in the marble floor, bearing some latin words, and the name of the station.

Now you might expect the cells to be cramped, or find the place like a dungeon. Instead the prisoners seem to be treated rather well. The cells spread out in a fan shape in the backroom. Each easily the size of the main lobby, The floor is clean, the cots well padded. A security android brings them home-cooked [or robot-cooked] meals, and steaming cups of coffee. It is almost better then being in a cheap hotel--except for the bars.

The prisoners found here are usually alien in nature--or very minor offenders. The major offenders are immediately escorted to a larger prison far from the “perfect” city of Touchdown. The aliens? They must wait for a ride home to be tried--no matter how small the crime.

Prisoners only face trials at home--unless the crime was committed against an earthling, or earthling building.