Time Salvager (Time Salvager #1)(21)

James was pushing fifteen years. He was considered one of the seniors and even then, he still had five more years left on his contract. For Valta to purchase four of his last five years, especially with the recent dearth of Tier-1 chronmen, they would have to be paying an exorbitant sum. James tapped his finger on the table, lost in thought. Something smelled foul here; he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Why?” he asked finally, arching an eyebrow. “Buying us out must cost Valta a fortune. What’s the catch?”

Sourn smiled. “Consider it extra incentive. Valta knows how delicate this job is. We wish to guard against any decisions to abort. Just get us what we ask for and we will deliver as promised.”

James looked at Smitt, who nodded. “Central’s already confirmed the terms. We just need to come through.”

James bit his lip. With this much scratch being offered, who cared about things being off? Nothing else mattered now except for finding the fastest way to escape his current hell. He was exaggerating when he said it was an impossible job; it was just a very difficult one. James had beaten difficult before. This couldn’t be harder than surviving Mnemosyne Station, after all.

“Sounds like I have no choice,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

They spent the rest of the morning working through the logistics. The more James learned about the salvage, the more uneasy he felt about the job, but he had learned years ago that reservations meant little to chronmen and even less to the megacorporations.

The long briefing ended at ten, giving him sixteen hours before mission got the job. James hadn’t had breakfast yet and was starving. He needed another drink too. Both of these issues would need to be rectified before he could begin the rest of his day. His body informed him of its priorities and he headed toward the Never Late. A drink came first; sustenance later.

“Where you off to, my friend?” Smitt said, falling in next to him.

James grunted. Go figure, he’d get handled by his handler even when not on a job. He imagined Smitt being particularly unbearable for the next few days. The success of this job affected them both.

Smitt wanted to get out of here almost as badly as James did. Almost. While handlers didn’t have to put up with the trauma of the jumping into the past, they were the lowest tier of the agency and were barely treated better than pesky caretakers. After almost twenty years, some of them could almost get as suicidal as chronmen. Bottom line, both of them could use a change of scenery.

“Whoa, whoa. You are not going to the Never Late right now, James.” Smitt jumped in front of him. He spread his hands out as if that would actually bar the way. “No drinking tonight. Not before an important jump. In any case, this salvage is important enough the director wants you to meet with Levin in an hour before even clearing you to go.”

“Fuck Levin,” James snarled. “Besides, I have an hour to get a couple drinks and lunch in before the audit anyway.”

Smitt pointed a finger at him. “Check yourself, James. You want out? This could be it. Just play nice with Levin and maybe you might reduce our sentence from five more years to just one and change. Just smile and be on your best f*cking behavior with Levin. Do the job, and we’re in the clear, got it?”

James tried to pass him again, but Smitt would have none of it. He kept his arms out and almost tried to tackle him when James pushed through. It would be comical if it wasn’t so sad. James saw the desperation in his friend’s eyes as he tried to keep him from his booze.

“After my audit with Levin then,” he grumbled, turning around. “I’m going to take a nap in my quarters.”

“I’ll be right outside waiting for you,” Smitt said, following him every step of the way.





EIGHT

LEVIN JAVIER-OBERON

Levin watched as the prison collie took off from the landing pad and shot toward the sky, a small yellow streak disappearing into the morning, joining the thick caravan of ships constantly streaming through the atmosphere.

The trial should have been short. ChronoCom trials were usually just formalities. After all, the agency never acted until it was sure. Otherwise, they’d just be wasting scarce resources. In this case, though, Levin had a personal stake in the outcome and argued for it until he got his desired result. It took him all night to get what he wanted.

Officially, Levin’s role in this audit retrieval was only a moderate success, with the ripples caused by the fugitive an unfortunate but not unexpected aftereffect. The time line was restored, though never fully healed. That would be a minor black mark on his record.

Levin had his own reasons for personally taking on this job. He had restored his honor for having a rogue nephew, his sister Ilana was able to see her son one final time, and Levin had somehow saved Cole from death. That in itself was a minor miracle, considering the ripples caused by his romp through the Ming Dynasty.

The prison transport finally left the atmosphere, its light no longer visible. It would take the ship a few days to reach the penal colony on Nereid, where Cole was sentenced to do hard labor in the gas-processing plants for the rest of his life. Levin had saved his nephew from capital punishment, though in a way, Nereid was a fate far worse.

Levin looked over at his weeping sister. “It’s over. We’ve done all that we could. Will you stay the night before you head back to Oberon?”