Time Salvager (Time Salvager #1)(36)

“Snazzy. You guys must be flying to Alpha Centauri by now. Must be grand.”

James’s response caught in his throat. Maybe it was better she didn’t know. After all, was there a point in burdening her with the knowledge that the future was a desolate shit hole?

“It’s pretty grand,” he choked the words out. “Beautiful and prosperous worlds.”

“Unicorns and spaceships for everyone, huh?”

James looked down again at his power: 9 percent. He could lower the shield level to extend it. It would leak a little radiation in, not enough to kill him, but it’d make them sick. It would buy a few more minutes, at least. Or maybe he should give up the netherstore. Give it up to live or risk keeping it and possibly die? The choice was obvious.

“James,” Smitt’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “You’re out of the tear. Just in the nick of f*cking time. Your power is about to fail. I’m pulling you out now.”

“Give me a minute, Smitt.”

“No time…”

“Give me a f*cking minute. I’ll let you know when to initiate the jump.”

There was a pause. “All right. On your mark, but hurry up. You’re at eight percent.”

He grabbed Elise and squeezed her, and she squeezed back. His thoughts drifted back to Sasha and his mother.. He had failed them both. His failure to protect the ones he loved was the one constant, and now this pattern was about to repeat itself. He lifted her chin with his finger and stared into her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

He leaned forward, arched her back and kissed her, a gentle touch of the lips. At first, she stiffened in surprise and pushed back, and then she relaxed. He felt the coolness of her wet skin against his, and the warmth of her tongue as she reached up and pulled him into her. At that moment, his heart hammered his chest so hard it threatened to break out. He could hear it screaming at his brain as his brain told his body to let her go.

“James, you’re too low. I don’t give an abyss what you say. You’re coming in now! Jumping in five…”

“Damn it, Smitt, wait!”

“Four…”

James pushed her away and turned his back to her. Tears that hadn’t fallen since he lost Sasha flowed down his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, confused.

“Three…”

Smitt’s f*cking buzzing. James wanted to strangle him right now.

“It’s not that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Two…”

“Good-bye,” James said.

“One…”

“I don’t understand,” Elise said.

The yellow light began to flash. James turned to capture her memory in his mind for the last time. She would succumb to the radiation within minutes of his jump. Another ghost in the long trail of deaths. She was already dead. Just another …

There you go again, Grace echoed in his other ear.

What’s another death among thousands? The Nazi soldier shrugged.

Sasha looked at him and then turned away, saying nothing.

“Fuck my life!” he screamed, grabbing Elise by the arm and pulling her close.

Then the entire world turned yellow.





FOURTEEN

BUSINESS AS USUAL

Levin was not looking forward to the Auditor Chain Council today. He was sitting at his desk when the surroundings of his room disappeared, overlaid by an image of a large round table with twenty auditors encircling it, a modified paint module beaming each and every one of their images to the rest.

Cole’s trial was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and Levin could tell that the other nineteen high auditors in the solar system were all walking delicately around the subject. He was grateful for their sympathy but irritated by their consideration as well.

After all, if these seniors of the chain felt the need to dance around him with such care in regards to his nephew’s trial, this meant the dishonor still clung to him. Even personally capturing and sending Cole to Nereid, the most severe of all possible sentences, did not seem to fully restore his standing among them. And if he had not reclaimed his respect among the most senior of his colleagues, what chance did he have with the lower of the chains? Or the chronmen tiers? Or even the monitor ranks?

Authority might stem from rank but leadership stemmed from respect; therefore, if Levin no longer held his peers’ respect, it did not matter if he was a high auditor or fresh to the chain. In the end, Levin did the only thing he could do: he faced their backhanded sympathies with as much dignity as he could muster, and took his rightful place as high auditor of Earth.

The beginning of the meeting went as planned. High Auditor Lynch of the first chain gave the signal. Each of the high auditors began by providing a status of their region. Levin, as the steward of Earth, was last, given the planet’s honored status as the ancestral home of the civilization, with the deepest trove of salvages. It was also the most difficult to manage and the largest pain in the ass for the agency.

It was an important position even though Levin was only of the ninth chain, which was considered low for the high auditor of Earth. In his case, it was doubly unusual because though he was considered one of the most successful stewards of Earth in the past hundred years, he still had not risen up the chain. That was another sore for Levin, one he preferred not to delve into.