The Time Travel Directorate (3 page)

“This is an outrage
—they do not know who they are dealing with!” the Duchess complained loudly.

The coach
lurched forward, making a semi-circle. It could only mean one thing—they were returning Paris. Kanon’s heart thudded in her chest, as she understood how badly she misjudged the situation. She did not take Julius’ impromptu meeting to heart. It was clear he was behind her current dilemma.

What on earth was he planning?

Eyes glued to the window, Kanon watched as they entered the city limits, rumbling towards the public square of the Place De la Concorde. Straining to look, she thought she recognized an object in the square—something large.

Pushing the Duchess out of the way, she got a closer look.
A wooden platform loomed before them. On top of it, a tall object rose like a beacon—its glittering razor ominously situated. Swallowing hard, Kanon looked on in dismay.

Julius Arnold had erected the guillotine.

He must have been manipulating the past for quite some time, creating a powerful identity. Kanon admonished herself for positioning her identity too close to the French revolution. She would soon pay the price, as Julius clearly intended to begin the bloodbath of the terror.

Sitting
very still, Kanon listened to the slow sobs of the Duchess.

“What will they do with us,
Cécile?” she asked, gripping Kanon by the arm.

“I do not know, Duchess
—let us try not to worry about it. As you said, we are not totally unprotected.”

“
Do they know who we are?” the Duchess asked frantically, as the carriage moved past the square.

“Where are they taking us?”
Kanon asked, as they proceeded to the west end of the city.

“It is the
Conciergerie,” The Duchess indicated, pointing as they approached the castle-like structure.

“So it is,”
Kanon responded, watching as the carriage ground to a halt. “We don’t even get a trial,” she finished, her breath catching.

“A trial?
What are we accused of!” the Duchess cried, nearing hysteria.

Kanon
didn’t respond, knowing the ancient prison from her history book. This is where they would be held, until the guillotine was ready for them.

“Why would they bring us
to the square first?” she asked aloud, to which the Duchess responded, hyperventilating.

“They wanted us to see our fate, so we are consumed with fear. Oh!
Cécile! Why is this happening? Is there no justice? We have done nothing wrong!”

Just as the Duchess’s anxiety reached its peak, the
carriage door flew open. The Duchess gave a little screech as their captors pulled her from the carriage. Kanon followed next, not uttering a word as they were led to a large courtyard.

T
he immense stone structure of the Conciergerie loomed before them. Moving like trained marines, their captors led them into the prison, forcing them into the bowels of the medieval dungeon.

They were
hastily shackled, before being forced into adjacent cells.

Kanon
fell in a heap on the stone floor. Finding her way to the door, she whispered through the keyhole.

“Duchess,”
Kanon hissed.

She heard
a whimper in response.

“
Don’t lose hope! I shall find a way out of this!”

Pushing away from the door,
Kanon removed her web.

Frantically, she checked for any messages, before sending
several desperate missives—ending with the most direct.

Help!

She waited, hands trembling in fear.

There
was no response from Central Computer, which meant no one was coming for her. It was as if someone had shut down the Directorate, leaving the inspectors in the field to perish in time.

“What happens now?” Vin asked, speaking quickly as his mind ran through various different scenarios. “I mean do I leave immediately, where do I look for her? What . . . ” he trailed off, as Chief Smiley walked directly past him, clearly not interested in answering his questions.

Vin
trailed behind, wondering at his sudden change in fortune. To be sent out as an inspector, just like that!

Entering
Chief Smiley’s office, Vin sat down—looking expectedly at his supervisor. Chief Smiley pulled out another reading pane from his desk and began tapping it animatedly before holding out his palm.

“Badge.”

Vin handed over his security credential. Chief Smiley scanned it with his reading pane before tossing it back.

“I’m upgrading your access.”

Vin’s stomach gave a lurch.

“Do I leave right now?”
he asked, wringing his hands.

Chief Smiley
looked up from the reading pane with a grimace.

“Don’t be
ridiculous, you have to go through inspector training. Time travel is the most heavily regulated industry, even the bankers feel sorry for us. We have internal controls that must be followed, even in an emergency. Absent all that, you are hardly in the best physical shape.”

Vin
looked down at his thin frame. He hadn’t considered himself athletic since he was cut from the varsity basketball squad years ago. He had been looking for a reason to get back into shape. This must be it.

“Do we have
time for that though?” Vin asked suddenly, wondering at the urgency of the situation.

Chief Smiley
adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, an amused expression on his face.

“
Time is never something we worry about here,” he said. “Your training will occur centuries in the past. Due to time dilation, we can get you up to speed before Kanon Hay is even born.”

Smirking
, he rose, motioning for Vin to follow.

T
hey walked past Director Hay’s office to the Directorate’s restricted corridor. As they approached the empty guard station, Vin felt his pulse quicken. Analysts weren’t allowed anywhere near this area. If they wandered too close, their badges would send out a silent alarm to Central Computer.

Vin
had found this out the hard way his first week on the job. Ever since then, he had not allowed himself so much as a glance down that hallway. But here he was, staring at the access keypad. It seemed indecent almost, the emptiness of the place. But with everyone sent home and only himself, Chief Smiley and Director Hay in the building, it was strangely exciting.

“
Scan your badge,” Chief Smiley ordered, swiping his card before moving past the gate.

Vin
followed suit, watching carefully as the keypad flashed green.

He
followed Chief Smiley down a narrow hallway lined with photos of legendary inspectors. Vin paused near one of Director Hay. He wore the robes of a New England magistrate, having enforced the Colonial area of responsibility in the early years of the Directorate.

Chief Smiley proceeded to lecture as
Vin lingered over the photographs.

“Inspector training occurs in a safe zone in time. Meaning a location where there is little to no habitation. This minimizes any impact on Standard D.”

“
What if you just went back in time and took Inspector Hay off the case?” Vin asked nonchalantly.

Instead of answering
, Chief Smiley walked right up to Vin, stopping so close that their noses nearly touched. His beady eyes flashed.

“
Let’s get something straight. You are an anomaly, a loophole. The only reason you got this opportunity is because you took an extra day of vacation when we issued the furlough letters. You don’t think I’ve reviewed this upside down and sideways?”

H
e smiled as Vin shifted backward.

“I assume you
have an analyst-grade knowledge of time travel, which I define as elementary.” Smiley paused, studying Vin with a blank look. “The first available travel opportunity must be at least 100 years before the present—even Julius Arnold isn’t stupid enough to violate that order. This obviously prohibits you from running into your present self. If you did, it would certainly impact Standard D. We’d have to kill you both, in fact,” Chief Smiley finished, smiling broadly.

Vin
could feel his dislike. Gulping, he nodded, looking down at his shoes. He felt Chief Smiley’s eyes on him, wondering what a pathetic figure he cut in comparison to Smiley’s well-cut suit and designer frames.

Feeling Chief Smiley relax a bit,
Vin ventured a response.

“
Understood, sir.”

This
act of submissiveness seemed to placate him.

“
If I didn’t find a way home for Kanon Hay, what would happen to me? To this place?”

Pausing for effect,
Chief Smiley continued towards a large metal door at the end of the corridor.

“As I told you before
, time travel is one of the most regulated industries in our nation’s history. It’s our duty to preserve it. We’ll see ourselves through this crisis, as we have through others.”

W
ith a swipe of his card, the door flew open. Vin followed anxiously, his enthusiasm waning when he entered the room.

Rows of industrial lockers
looked similar to the ones Vin used in high school. The room was painted an industrial grey, and a leaking overhead panel was growing a brownish mold.

“
This is the deployment room. Pick a combination code, something you won’t forget,” Chief Smiley said, pointing to a locker. “Leave your things here, you won’t be able to take anything back into the past.”

“What about my clothes?”
Vin asked, hoping he would not have to divest himself of his garments.

“
Anything attached to your body will transmit with you—think of it like static electricity. The web manipulates your particles via cosmic strings, transporting your body to a location in the past.”

“Should I wear a disguise then?”
Vin asked.

“Not for training. When we put you in France, yes, I’ll
show you the wardrobe room later.”

Vin
placed his wallet and spare change inside the locker, feeling around for any other items in his pockets.

“
To answer your previous question more thoroughly,” Chief Smiley began, reaching into the locker and pulling out a gel-like net, “Time travel to fix errors in the present is prohibited for the reason I just articulated. As you should know, all time travel to change the past is not only illegal, but it’s basically impossible.”

As he spoke,
Vin realized the item in Chief Smiley’s hand was, in fact, the web. It looked like a children’s toy, reflecting the drab color of their surroundings with an outdated feel. Looking closer, Vin realized it wasn’t rubber at all, but a delicate interlocking weave of fiber-optics.

Vin
blinked, unimpressed by the age of the technology. He knew that the private time travel industry used portals. The web essentially amounted to dial up internet. Unaware of his disappointment, Chief Smiley continued to drone on.

“
Anomalies tend to be absorbed and averaged out. So we could go back and take her out of France, but some way or another, she would find herself there. We can’t fully prove why, but somehow things end up happening as they should.”

Chief Smiley gave him a broad grin
, looking like a contented tabby cat.

“
All this is classified information, so keep it to yourself. My analysts are still running the numbers, but it’s pretty clear what Julius Arnold is doing—while illegal—won’t touch Standard D. The numbers will prove it, you’ll see.”

“I understand
sir,” Vin said, unsure what he was getting at.

This was his mother
’s viewpoint, that all attempts to travel into the past end up being meaningless. If Chief Smiley didn’t think time travel to restricted areas was harmful, what were they doing? Vin must have misunderstood—it was all so new.

“Here,”
Chief Smiley said, abruptly passing the web to Vin.

Vin
squeezed the jelly-like folds of the device as Chief Smiley continued.

“The web
is outdated technology, but we find it actually is more consistent than some newer models that utilize particle . . . ” Realizing that Vin wasn’t listening, Chief Smiley sighed. “Never mind, see this pad?”

He advanced on
Vin, righting the web to reveal a small reading pane.

“
Your code goes here, enter it now,” he directed.

Vin
complied, entering his passcode. The screen illuminated with a blinking 12:00 symbol. When Chief Smiley saw it, he gave another aggrieved sigh, pulling out his reading pane.

“I always have to
fix these things—Janice never resets them properly,” he groused, tapping furiously.

Vin
watched the clock reset to the current time.

“You
set everything though Central Computer?” he asked.

“
I just inserted an end point into your web,” Chief Smiley continued, adjusting his glasses. “And since you asked, for all intents and purposes, I am Central Computer.”

“Ah
,” Vin responded, wondering why Director Hay would give so much power to one individual.

He must trust him
to grant so much access.

“I
heard about how the inspectors were using old technology but never realized just how old,” Vin said. “I know the travel industry uses portals, though more expensive, they reduce exposure to free radicals. Or so the advertisements say.”

“If you need to send
a message, type it in here,” Chief Smiley said, ignoring Vin’s little speech and gesturing to the reading pane. “It gets forwarded to mission support. In this case, since no one else is here, it will go to me.”

“Are you
in charge of all mission support as well?” Vin asked.

Chief Smiley
looked at him queerly before Vin wondered if he had inadvertently offended him. After several charged seconds, Chief Smiley gave himself a shake.

“I’m taking on the lowest of responsibilities in seeing to your deployment, but the budget deadlock can’t last forever, can it?”

“No,
” Vin responded succinctly, wondering why he had seemed so momentarily flustered.

“Ok, ready
?”

“Where am I
. . . ” in the course of asking the question, Chief Smiley threw the web around Vin—which whipped into place, covering him from head to toe.

“Less than
five percent have an allergic reaction to time travel, resulting in cardiac arrest and death, let us hope you are not in that percentile.”

Leaning forward, Chief Smiley hit the red button on the
web’s reading pane. Vin gasped, his muscles beginning to cramp as the blue rivulets of the web glowed with energy around his feet. He watched in horror as the current traveled up his body. Vin wanted to scream, but his entire body seemed paralyzed. Fear engulfing him, he looked over to Chief Smiley, who was now standing next to the wall with his hand on a lever.

Looking down in horror,
Vin identified the outlines of what appeared to be a trap door. He could hear the voice of Chief Smiley echo in the room as the energy swallowed his neck and head.

“I
n order for the web to work, the user must have the sensation of falling. Something to do with the brain’s electrical . . . ”

Chief Smiley pulled the lever, and
Vin Damato dropped through the floor.

Vin
drew a full breath, his head no longer spinning. Feeling the texture of grass below him, he opened his eyes, slowly regaining his composure.

Pulling the web from him,
he studied his surroundings.