Time Salvager (Time Salvager #1)(13)
Smitt walked up next to James and watched the planet slowly grow larger. “They say the water used to be so blue you could see it from space.”
James looked at the brown swirling oceans and grunted. “I don’t believe it. They say a lot of dumb things. Last time I saw the ocean on Earth was back in the mid-twenty-third century in a place called Tokyo, two days before the entire city sank into it. Even then the water was just a lighter shade of shit. I remember some clown declaring that humans would be setting foot in the next solar system by 2350. Imagine how disappointed he’d be if he was around today.”
Smitt’s eyes glazed over, and then he glanced at James. “We’re running behind schedule. Need to get you into position during Earth’s rotation or we blow it. I’ve just ordered the captain to detour to Europe first and drop you off from the Pheelrite. We’ll dislodge the collie separately and have her maintain orbit for you. I’ll handle a remote link until I get to Hops at Earth Central. This should be a pretty easy smash-and-grab job for you anyway.”
“You call zipping down to a burning castle while it’s being bombed an easy job? And I have to cut the room apart in how long? Thirty minutes? You’re a crap handler if you think this is easy.”
Smitt grinned. “I’ve just got faith in you. Remember, it’s a rich patron. Funds you, ChronoCom, and most importantly, me. We can’t live without these guys.”
“What does he want with the Amber Room anyway?” James asked. “Humanity is teetering on resource starvation and this rich Europian pays for a Tier-1 chronman to risk his life to go back in time for a silly piece of art? Of all the self-indulgent and wasteful expenditures…”
“Not our job to ask,” Smitt said. “Guy says he’s the descendant of the king that built it. Wants it back in the family.” He paused and stared at the collie attached to the aft starboard bulkhead. “By the way, I think we should change Collie’s name to Priestbanger.”
“Fuck you. I’m fine with Collie.”
Smitt rolled his eyes. “Calling a collie Collie is dumb. That’s like naming me Human.”
James eyed Smitt up and down, and grunted. “Barely.” A rare smile cracked a corner of his mouth.
Smitt gave him the middle finger. “All right, my friend, go kick some Nazi ass, but try not to kill anyone that isn’t supposed to die anyway.”
The Pheelrite shook as it entered Earth’s atmosphere, her portholes turning red from the heat of entry. The vibrations were so rough, James’s teeth rattled. Two hundred years ago, ships slipped through Earth’s atmosphere without the passengers so much as feeling it. It was a sad indication of how much technology had been lost over the centuries. The red around the portholes disappeared, replaced by a dark brown gel that caked onto the glass. They must be on Earth now.
The hull of the ship pitter-pattered, pelted by rain or hail or whatever it was. The brown gunk was washed away by more brown gunk as the transport vessel sliced through clouds with little grace. Again, the hull began to rock, which worried James some. This ship had obviously seen better days. He wondered if they’d be able to make it to the landing zone in one piece. If the ship exploded in midair, he might survive a high-altitude fall, but Smitt and the pilots would be pretty much screwed.
“Coming in north from the Baltic Sea,” the pilot’s voice piped over the comm. “Will reach fifty-four north longitude and twenty east latitude in four minutes.”
Smitt’s eyes glazed over. “Still running late. No time for a landing. Prepare for an airdrop.”
James sighed. Go figure. They always had to make it as difficult as possible. “Let’s get it over with.” He moved to the bay doors. The hatch split open down the middle and a shrill screech blew into the hold. “Hand me the coordinates and timings.”
Smitt had to grab on to a handle attached to the wall as he counted down toward the moving jump. James’s atmos kept the wind from affecting him. He looked over at Smitt expectantly. “We’re still two thousand meters up. Too high to jump.”
“Coordinating drop at six hundred thirty. Jump initiates at four hundred. It will hurt and you might be operating at seventy percent power for the mission but that’s the best we can do,” Smitt said. Sixteen seconds later, he held up his hand and ticked down his fingers. When his last finger balled up into a fist, James leaped out of the transport.
The free fall was short. One moment, he was plummeting toward the brown rubble of what was once Europe covered in gray ash and soot. The next, there was a yellow swirl of light and then darkness. Then James caught himself free-falling again. His eyes watered and his stomach seized, and then he felt the all-too-familiar sensation of bile climbing up his throat. James willed his body past the lag sickness. After all, he was falling at—he checked his AI band—250 kilometers an hour. Now wasn’t the time for a bellyache.
James blinked and focused on his continued descent. For a moment, he thought the jump had failed. The ground beneath him was still a landscape of rubble and ruins. Then he noticed the dozens of fires scattered across a broken city that hadn’t been there before. He looked up and saw a group of antiquated planes flying in V formation. A line of explosions cutting across the landscape brought his attention back to the surface. He was landing in the middle of a war zone.
A few seconds later, he slammed into the ground with as much impact as any of the primitive bombs being dropped. His exo lit up and redirected the kinetic impact of the force away from his body. The Earth indented three meters deep and created a termination shock wave forty meters out, blowing a plume of dust and debris high into the air.