Time Salvager (45 page)
James squinted at it. “Is that really what the explosive looked like?”
Elise rolled her eyes. “Of course not, silly. This is your dream, and since you have no idea what it looked like, you imagined it.”
Grace chuckled.
Of course, being such a kill mute, even your psyche had to spell everything out for you.
A vid appeared over the cylinder and began to count down from sixty.
“Oh dear,” Franwil said.
“Do something,” Rima urged.
“I … what do you expect me to do? I don’t even have my bands.” James looked down at his hands. Where his arms had been bare seconds ago, two exo bands now wrapped around his wrists.
I guess we’re dead.
The Nazi soldier sighed. Always dying over and over again.
You can only die once,
Grace said.
The rest is just an illusion.
“I haven’t died,” Elise said. “James, do something! Save us.”
He has no choice,
Grace said.
Danger.
But he did have a choice. The timer was down to fifty seconds. James ran to the bomb and lifted it up. It was heavier than it looked. He peered around wildly, trying to think of a way to disable it. How could he prevent this accident from happening again? Should he even try? Was he disrupting the chronostream, or was he actually righting it this time?
He looked over at Elise and Grace, the two dead women he had saved. Standing behind them were Qawol, Franwil, the Elfreth, and all those dozens of people now following Elise’s fool quest. They were in danger. Maybe Elise and Grace were better off dead in the past. Maybe the tribe might live longer, more fruitful lives without his interference. No matter what, it seemed he always interfered with others; he destroyed their lives. He had to do something, but everything he did caused more deaths, one way or another.
Danger.
The timer was down to forty. James wrapped his arms around the cylinder and hugged it to his chest. He looked up at the clear blue sky above his head and launched himself straight toward it. He rocketed up until seconds later; the platform was only a tiny circle in a vast sea of blue. The wind whipped and slapped his face, obscuring his vision. He found himself breathing hard. Still, he hung on to the cylinder. The timer was at five seconds now.
James wished he had his atmos right now. He was reaching the portion of the atmosphere where the air was getting thin. He felt his consciousness ebb away and wondered if he was high enough for the explosion to clear the base. He had to be. Well, passing out was a good way to die, wasn’t it? At least he’d feel no pain. The danger to Elise and his newfound friends had passed.
Danger.
James heard a long beep and then everything became still. His vision darkened, and then, right before he passed out, the cylinder exploded, tearing through him in a flash of blazing heat that burned through his skin and melted his bones. Every nerve in his body screamed from the terrible pain, and for one brief moment, he saw Elise, Grace, Rima, and little Sammuia. One last thought came to him: Where was Sasha? Why wasn’t she here? Well, it probably was for the best. At least she was out of …
* * *
“… danger. Wake up, damn it, James!”
James bolted off the bench and expanded his exo, pushing his shield out until it filled the insides of the collie, threatening to buckle the interior of the ship. His breathing was so uneven and his vision so blurred that his AI band was detecting both a heart attack and a stroke.
“James, are you there! Your vitals are exploding.”
It’d just take a little push, just another notch more, and then the exo’s shielding would burst out of the collie, free at last. Freedom from these nightmares, from the pain. Knees curled up to his chest, he sat on the bench and huddled into a ball. Just a little push more and the collie would break. Already, the ship was groaning under the pressure.
“Damn it!”
In his head, there was a rustling of someone shouting incoherently, as if far away at the other end of a tunnel. The sound of clapping, of footsteps, of people speaking too fast and too far away for him to understand. It was all going on in his head, and he couldn’t filter it out.
James grasped his head in his hands and screamed until his throat was hoarse. He waited, feeling his exo bulge and pulsate against its constraints. He nudged a little harder, and was rewarded with the shriek of metal. The console near the front of the ship began to blink red. Red was never a good color. The warnings were always of bad things, things that were going wrong. James was that blinking light. He appeared in time only when something was going wrong. Just one more push and it’d all be over.
“James, focus on my voice!” Grace cut through the cacophony.
James grasped at her voice as she repeated his name over and over again. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned his own name along with her until his heart rate calmed and the tension all over his body washed out and away.
James fell to his knees, then pulled himself up to the console. He looked at the readings and blinked. This couldn’t be right. According to the navigation, he had just passed the Southern American continent and was still a day out from Boston. Why was he up?
“What happened?” he finally choked the words out.
“I had to pull you out of your cryo sleep abruptly and your body did not react well to it. Listen to me, James…” Grace sounded urgent.
The dream rushed back to him, and he remembered every detail as if he had just relived it a hundred times over. “I think I get it,” he said. “I know what I have to do now.”
“For space’s sake, James Griffin-Mars, listen to me!” Grace screamed those words in his head so loud James reacted to it as if he’d been slapped.
“What is it?”
“You have to get back to Boston now. Smitt sent warning. They’re on their way.”
“Who—” He didn’t need to finish that thought; there was only one “they” whom it could be. He leaped to the controls and aimed the collie straight up out of the ocean. A day by ocean was less than an hour by air. He had to get to Elise before it was too late.
Levin stood at the launching pad of Earth Central and watched as the sixteen collies hovered in formation overhead. The Hops had been abuzz all morning about this impending attack. If Smitt was going to fall for the ruse, this is when it would happen.
The neural bug had gone online a few days ago and had already put to rest the question of the handler’s guilt. Within a matter of hours, Levin had learned that James was currently making a salvage in the Publicae Age. They were too late to act upon that information. Instead, they planted a trap that Levin was now about to spring. So much for brotherhood.
Part of Levin had hoped that they were mistaken about Smitt. He and Levin had once been friends, back in the day when Levin was still friends with James. Smitt’s arrest would heavily impact morale. Though of low rank, Smitt was a longtime colleague in the agency and was popular and respected by many. The other handlers would sympathize with his loyalty to his chronman.
“Your plan worked, Auditor,” Shizzu said, approaching from behind. “We just intercepted a subchannel transmission from Handler Smitt regarding the attack force.”
Levin bowed his head. “Where to?”
“East toward the ruins known as Boston.”
“You know where to go, then. I will join the attack shortly.”
“Your command, Auditor.”
Geneese and Shizzu shot up to one of the collies, and Levin watched as the small fleet headed east. His eyes followed the departing fleet until it was nothing more than small specks swallowed up by the darkening horizon. The fleet would reach Boston in less than thirty minutes. Sure, Smitt might have gotten a message to James’s base there; that couldn’t be helped. It was a small price to pay for discovering the location of the base. In the end, that small warning would do little to affect the outcome.
The fleet was a significant ChronoCom force, far too large to expend on one fugitive chronman, but Levin was not taking any chances. The ruins of Boston were vast, and a wasteland tribe, with unknown firepower and knowledge of the terrain, could wreak havoc on any invader. Overwhelming force was a sound decision. Levin wished he were going there right now with his men, but he had one more duty he had to oversee before he could join them.
“Monitor Kormin, arrest Handler Smitt and take him to the brig,” he said to the man he had assigned to watch over Smitt at the Hops.
“Apologies, Auditor, but Securitate Kuo ordered me to take him there the moment the traitor sent out the transmission. They’re both already in the brig.”
“What is she doing?”
“She is interrogating the traitor.”
“Stop her! That is a private matter.”
“I … I can’t, Auditor.”
“Black abyss,” Levin growled.
Of course Kuo would supersede his authority. If Smitt had spent even a few minutes in the room with her alone, Levin feared he might already be too late. He rushed back into the building, his hands balled into fists as he pushed his way through the crowded corridors, bowling down anyone who was too slow to jump out of his way.
Levin considered calling in squads of monitors in the event the situation escalated, but thought better of it. No monitor or auditor, for that matter, could stand up against her; he would be placing his people in a dangerous position. No, better he address this on his own. In any case, the confrontation had been coming to a head for weeks now. He should have managed Kuo from the outset. This was his failure. The burden of stopping her should rest squarely on his shoulders.
Levin reached the holding cells, and through one of the viewing screens saw Kuo in a cell with Smitt, who was strapped to a chair with his hands tied behind his back. Sweat glistened on the handler’s shirtless body, and his head lolled forward, swinging like a pendulum. His left eye was blackened and blood dripped out of his nose as he hacked and coughed.
Smiling, Kuo caressed his chin, causing Smitt to jerk backward violently, either from pain or terror. She pressed her palm on his chest and he spasmed, his back snapped erect, and his face pointing toward the ceiling in a silent scream. Then he collapsed, unconscious. The lone monitor in the room with them pulled Smitt’s head back by the hair and checked his eyes. He looked over at Kuo.
“Wake him,” she said, circling the room as if a shark sensing blood.
Levin’s nostrils flared as the monitor slapped Smitt awake and the torture continued. Kuo gripped Smitt by the chin and turned his face toward her. “Let’s try this question again,” she said. “You’ve already given me the location of the fugitive chronman’s base. I appreciate that. Your fate is sealed, so why don’t you make things a little easier on yourself? Where is James? Where is the anomaly? What were you searching for in Cassini Regio?”
“I told you already. He’s dead,” Smitt mumbled, drool dribbling down his chin, “I don’t know anything about a damn scientist, and I was just doing research for a Tier-2 job.”
Kuo looked at the monitor standing next to Smitt, who stepped forward and stuck a pain rod into Smitt’s ribs. He screamed as smoke drifted up from the wound.
“You have no jobs on record in that region. Dead men don’t need miasma pills,” she said. “Yes, we know about those too.”
“He’s dead,” Smitt moaned, staring fearfully at the pain rod hovering close to his face. “Died in the past.”
Kuo signaled again, and Smitt screamed as the monitor jabbed the rod into the base of his neck, this time behind his collarbone.
She caressed his face again and snapped his chin up to make him face her. “How did he die? Where’s the body?”
A white glow shifted from her body and wrapped around Smitt’s waist. It lifted him into the air and stretched him out, slowly separating his limbs from their sockets.
“He’s hundreds of years dead already,” Smitt screamed. “I don’t know where. Please, please!”
Levin detested this sort of treatment and rarely found it effective. As an auditor, he had had to do many terrible things, but torture was where he drew the line. Sometimes, the death of an enemy was necessary. It had rarely been his experience that torture ever was.
Levin cherished his place in the chain. However, this was too much. For Kuo, a corrupt outsider, to feel that she had the authority and the right to torture one of their own, regardless of guilt, was not only barbaric, but went against the honor of all that Levin held dear. At that moment, he didn’t care that the director had ordered him to cooperate with this Valta corporate scum. The director’s orders could not be rightfully followed. Levin was going to put a stop to this right now. He slammed open the door and stormed into the holding room.
“This ends now,” he said. “Monitor Qem, take Handler Smitt to the medical ward. Place a guard at his door. No one is allowed access to him without my express permission.”
“No, he won’t,” Kuo said. “In fact, Monitor Qem will use that pain stick and jab it into the traitor’s neck until he falls unconscious.” She sauntered around the room and stopped in front of Levin. “Leave the room, Auditor. You’re not needed here.” To his credit, Qem did nothing, though for a second, he wore the same terrified look as Smitt.
“Hands off my operative,” Levin growled, stepping up to face Kuo. “This matter is not your business.”
“It became our business when someone in your agency spied on sensitive Valta intelligence.”
“Where is your evidence?”
“You are not privy to it.” She turned her back to him and hovered Smitt to her.
“James is dead…,” Smitt groaned again, and then his body stiffened as Kuo pinned him against the wall. Her hands glowed white and spread to Smitt’s chest. He began to thrash as the sickening smell of burned skin filled the room.
“This is your final warning, Securitate,” Levin said, his voice deadpan. Levin clenched his fists and cursed his indecisiveness. There was only one person here who was possibly powerful enough to stop her. However, Young’s orders rang in his head. The consequences to the agency weighed heavily on him.
