Time Salvager (Time Salvager #1)(23)

It wasn’t that James minded these audits, it was that he hated Levin. Well, no, he felt the audits were a waste of time, too. Passing or failing one of these stupid things didn’t really matter. All auditing did was decide the tier of jobs a chronman was allowed to run. With the suicide rate for chronmen so high, there weren’t enough Tier-1s these days for the agency to pull anyone off the line regardless, so these audits were essentially a formality.

ChronoCom had commissioned a study a few years ago on the high suicide rates among time operatives. Some of the scientists had hypothesized that excessive time travel affected the brain. James could have just saved them all that time and energy by telling them that chronmen became the way they did because the job f*cking sucked. The study became moot when the only recommendation they could make was to offer extended rest to the more senior chronmen. Humanity couldn’t afford to bench any Tier-1 operatives.

He knocked on the door and walked in. Levin was busy acting busy and ignoring James, staring at the vid floating in front of him. He was probably the least sympathetic of the high-ranking planetary auditors, which was surprising, considering he was a former chronman.

That was one of the two retirement options for guys like James. Usually, they died on the job, but sometimes, if a chronman was exceptional and kissed the right ass, he became an auditor and tracked the performances of other chronmen and their handlers.

“Have a seat,” Levin said after a while. He pulled up James’s file on the vid and skimmed it while James plopped on a chair in front of his desk. Levin sniffed at him and raised an eyebrow. “Straight to the bar after breakfast, or was that still from last night?”

“Before, after, does it matter?” James shrugged. “It’s something I saw you do often when you were one of us.”

“According to Jobe, you were at the bar almost all the time on Himalia Station. Nearly single-handedly keeping the place afloat. He says you buy everyone drinks. You’re not saving your scratch. Kujo said you made a drunken scene at the Never Late last night as well. Your account isn’t nearly what it should be for a chronman of your status. How are you ever going to save up for life after the agency?”

James snorted. “You mean when I’m dead? Tell me, who has a life after ChronoCom? And don’t tell me that shit you do counts.”

Levin leaned back in his chair. “What’s wrong with what I do? It’s my job to make sure our people are operating at peak levels, which you obviously aren’t. It’s also my job to take corrective action.”

“Corrective action like turning Landon in and clearing out half his savings when he was six months from buying out his contract?” James said, leaning forward over the desk, his hands gripping the metal like claws.

“Don’t start on Landon again,” Levin said. “He deserved his punishment for screwing up three consecutive jobs and then trying to cover it up.”

“Twenty years on the job and six months from getting out.” James clenched his fist. “He was our mentor and friend.”

“Maybe he should have kept his focus on earning out his exit instead of getting drunk before his jumps,” Levin said, “a habit that, by the way, you seem to have picked up.”

James scowled. “Go f*ck yourself, Levin.”

“Not if I get you first,” Levin said. “I’m supposed to clear you for this corp request. Maybe I won’t. Let’s start with your last job, shall we?” His eyebrows rose as he read the report. “A six on ripples. A little high for such a minor salvage, don’t you think?”

“I got dropped in the middle of a war!”

The meeting went downhill from there, with Levin nitpicking every single decision James had made over the past month. Finally, an exhausting hour later, after both of them had insulted the other countless times, Levin shook his head.

“You’re walking a fine line,” he said.

“Like I care.”

“You might care if your funds dry up, which might happen, at the pace you drink.”

“You going to Landon me then, huh? And you wonder why the chronmen hate you.”

“No one likes you much either.”

“Landon flew his collie into Neptune because of you.”

That touched a nerve in Levin. “I’m not at fault for his suicidal actions.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” James said. “I’m sure you sleep like a baby. You only think that—”

James froze, a thought or memory or dream triggering in his head. He suddenly found himself short of breath. Why did saying that send chills through his body? He clenched his fist and willed his shaking arms still. There was no way he’d show Levin any weakness.

Levin was an observant auditor, though. “Are you all right, James? How are your nerves? You look like you’re about to lose it.”

“How’s your jaw?” James shot back through gritted teeth.

Levin smirked. “Fully healed. Next time you want a go at me, do it while I’m looking.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as both men refused to back down. Levin pulled up another set of files and looked them over. “Your last few reports show empathy for the victims of these dead-end time lines,” Levin said. “How do you feel about abandoning the Mother of Time?”

Grace’s face flashed in front of him. So how do you feel about abandoning me? she said.