The Time Travel Directorate (6 page)

By Directorate standards,
Kanon Hay was the most popular girl in school. Their dramatic encounter felt like a tumultuous first date, which made Vin feel in control—and powerful.

Chief Smiley broke
Vin’s train of thought, tapping him to draw his attention.

“If
, for any reason, you want to talk to someone, let me know immediately. Your experience is unusual—moving in and out of time so quickly can disturb your brain’s understanding of the present state.”

Vin
nodded as if he understood. Chief Smiley looked at him and sighed.

“
The brain takes time to process change—you can quickly slip into Post Travel Syndrome. We call it PTS. Don’t think I haven’t seen it before. If you exhibit signs of disorientation, confusion or depression, I’ll lock you up in a mental institution quicker than you can say uncle.”

“Yes
,” Director Hay repeated, nodding his head but looking as if he had checked out of the conversation.

“
After one rather catastrophic lawsuit which involved several inspectors, the Directorate had to make some changes,” Chief Smiley explained. “The first was to limit the amount of travel to different locations. Jumping around too quickly can jar the mind,” he noted.

Vin
knew what they were referring to—the analysts talked of it nonstop. Some prominent inspectors had been committed—all due to PTS. Even now, he could feel the change. He was gone from the present moment for two years, the revelation made him want to throw up.

“Well?
How do you feel?” Director Hay asked, looking up at Vin.

Vin
pushed the feelings away. He was a different person now. Not a naive analyst, but a confident inspector—so talented, he had just saved Kanon Hay from imminent doom.

“
I’m fine, Director Hay. And I’m happy to report that your daughter is perfectly safe, back at training camp.”

“Why is she at
training camp? I want to see her,” Director Hay said, ignoring the ringing of his reading pane.

For a moment,
Vin wasn’t sure how to answer, before Chief Smiley saved him.

“Due to the ongoing investigation, I didn’t think it was prudent to bring her back, sir,” Chief Smiley responded.

“Why the hell
not?” Director Hay asked.

Chief Smiley adjusted his wire frames. He could
easily have his eyesight fixed. Vin assumed he kept them for another reason, perhaps to make himself look formidable.

“Julius Arnold
is clearly aware that Kanon is your daughter. And certain details of the investigation put her at risk should she return to headquarters,” Chief Smiley said.

“Have I been briefed on these details?” Director Hay barked.

“Yes, sir, but I’m happy to . . . ”

“No,
no. I remember now,” Director Hay responded, gazing at his reading pane.

Vin
felt he did not remember, but was too proud to admit it. Without thinking, he joined the conversation.

“Sir,
my next assignment is to track down Julius Arnold, I should be briefed as well.”

“
Absolutely not,” Chief Smiley quipped, “How dare you . . . ”

“No, he has a point
,” Director Hay responded, smiling at Vin for the first time. “The rumor is you were in and out of training faster than any previous recruit, how long did it take you, one year?”

“Just over two
, sir.”

“Hmm
, that might tie someone else’s personal best.” Director Hay looked pointedly at Chief Smiley before continuing, “I’m impressed with you, Vin. I think it’s prudent that you work the Arnold case as hard as possible.”

“But
, sir,” Chief Smiley began, shifting in his chair nervously. “The law strictly prohibits the deployment of inspectors for purposes of . . . ”

“I thought you told me
Vin is exempt from that particular clause?” Director Hay asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

Vin
had never seen Chief Smiley bested in the game of logic with Director Hay.

“Yes, sir,” Chief Smiley stammered
, a painful look on his face. “The same loophole still applies.”

“
Make sure you formalize his status as an inspector once this budget deadlock is figured out,” Director Hay commanded, turning to smile at Vin. “Until then, update him on the situation, I have a budget meeting.”

Chief Smiley
rose to hasten their exit, but before Vin could leave his chair, Director Hay’s hand shot up from across the desk.

“Thank you
, son,” he said, shaking his hand firmly.

Feeling his head swell to epic proportions,
Vin smiled.

“Of course sir, glad I could be of use.”

Vin followed a seething Chief Smiley out of the office. As soon as the door closed, he got a good look at those thin wire frames, as Chief Smiley whirled around to face him.

“How dare you
speak to me that way,” he snapped. “The only reason you are involved is because you I put you on the case.”

Chief Smiley
continued ranting as he stormed down the corridor and into his office.

“And to think I have to brief
an analyst, of all people!” he cried, throwing his reading pane on his desk. “This is just why I . . . ” He stopped himself, fixing his glasses and adjusting his composure.

Vin
took a seat, watching the red drain from Chief Smiley’s face. Appearing somewhat composed, he drew his reading pane towards him.

“I’m sending you some files as background. You will continue the good work of Inspector Quill, who was previously assigned the Julius Arnold case.”

“Where is Quill now?”
Vin asked as his reading pane glowed to life.

“
Compliance training.”

“
What for?” Vin asked.

Chief Smiley shot him an unfriendly look.

“Inspectors aren’t above the law, the Directorate has internal controls just like every other government entity. Quill was due for training. He reported to campus to complete it per protocol. Then the government shut down, so there he remains.”

“Where
did Julius initially travel?” Vin said, browsing through the files.

“It is all there!” Chief Smiley snapped, before
stopping himself, trying to control his anger.

Vin
wondered whether he regretted the “loophole” he used to send him into the field. It seemed like every logical question Vin asked, Smiley found offensive. Perhaps the pseudo-inspector he created threatened him in some way.

“Quill spotted
Julius in his area of responsibility—the Colonies,” he finally answered. “I believe the first overstay was in Salem. From there, he jumped to the Middle Ages—and then to Inspector Hay’s area of responsibility.”

Vin
was going to ask whether or not it was okay to record their conversation for his future reference, but decided not to risk angering him. Silently, he tapped the record button, fully intending to transcribe the notes later. He placed his reading pane on the chair next to him and folded his hands as Chief Smiley continued.

“After your over
tly dramatic rescue of Kanon Hay, Julius Arnold must have jumped to another location.”

“
Is there any way to track exactly where he is?” Vin asked.

“
We should be able to trace it using Central Computer. Every web has a unique code—it’s all very straightforward. Julius must be using an untraceable code of some kind, which must be why we can’t locate him,” Chief Smiley said, dripping with condescension.

“Yes, I understand
,” Vin responded succinctly, moving for his reading pane.

Perusing the files, he
paused on a picture of Julius Arnold. It was a dated photo, taken from the time Julius was still a respected corporate mogul. Even then, his thin, pockmarked face and sharp blue eyes hinted at a man with callous ethics.

“No, y
ou don’t understand—that’s why I’m telling you this,” Chief Smiley barked back. “Julius Arnold is a murderer, a philanderer, and public enemy number one. Now, this mission is slightly different from your previous one.”

“
How so?” Vin asked, casually glancing up from his reading pane.

“
Let me explain to you
Inspector
Damato,” Smiley shot back, incensed by Vin’s attitude.

Vin
was no longer the subservient analyst of a few hours before. He knew the change in himself, and so did Director Hay. It appeared that Chief Smiley would need a little bit longer to adjust.

Chief Smiley
fussed with his glasses, staring down at Vin as best he could.

“
Julius Arnold has already threatened deadly force against an inspector, because of that, you are authorized to take him out by any means necessary.”

“
That’s putting it mildly. What happened after Quill spotted him?” Vin cut in, eager to keep the lecture short.

“
What?” Chief Smiley asked, tapping on his reading pane.

“The first time
Julius overstayed,” Vin asked, flipping through the old case files.

“Hmm,
let me see,” Chief Smiley responded, not looking up from his reading pane.

His
manner took Vin by surprise. Usually Chief Smiley had the answer before you asked the question. Vin watched him carefully, wondering whether the stress of the shutdown had gotten to him. Before he could ponder this further, Chief Smiley assumed his usual haughty demeanor.

“
You are distracting me needlessly. What I was going to say is your last mission was to rescue Kanon Hay. This one requires you to bring in Julius Arnold—dead or alive. You only have physical training as an inspector—we need to make sure you have the administrative training as well.”

“Which means what?”
Vin asked.

“
It means when you kill him no one can prosecute you,” Chief Smiley quipped. “Or the case won’t be thrown out since you weren’t acting in an official capacity,” he finished.

Vin sat up in his chair.

“Ok
ay, I’m ready. What far off mountain are you going to drop me into this time?”

“
It is worse than that I’m afraid,” Chief Smiley said ominously. “You are going to legal training. I’ve just programmed it in, you are ordered to leave immediately.”

Vin
nodded, standing to exit with a sinking feeling.

It wasn’t until
he was in the deployment room that he realized his reading pane was still in Chief Smiley’s office.

As the trapdoor flew
open, and Vin reappeared on a nondescript college campus, he decided it wasn’t a huge loss. It would probably run out of battery eventually, at which time, Vin would simply recharge it and take notes from the recording.

Kanon
looked at the wooden cross blankly. The monk gave her a push.

“Take the water from here. Lift up, pour out
.”

The monk pantomimed
his statements, holding the teacups for Kanon. He then took a seat to begin his morning meditation.

“
Ok,” Kanon said aloud. “Here goes nothing.”

W
rapping her knees over the arms of the cross, she slowly eased herself down. Due to her short stature, the tips of her fingers barely reached the water vessels below. Grunting with effort, she took the teacups and filled them with water. Struggling, she sat up, shakily depositing the water into the hanging jars.

After several minutes
of activity, she was exhausted. Pausing, Kanon held herself upright, knees shaking. Desperate to escape from the burning sensation in her limbs, she searched for a comforting memory of Versailles—like the time they played peasant. They swept a little makeshift cottage and ran the puppies through the fields as if they were goats.

The games were silly,
and their entertainments quite vapid. However, the Duchess was giving in her attentions. Not a day went by that was not filled with hearty laughter. Now her friend was dead—erased from history by a man who found happiness only through the fulfillment of his most masochistic desires.

Kan
on continued her torturous exercise—searching for another memory to distract her. Dipping the teacups into the water jugs, she thought, as she usually did, of the guillotine. She could hear the fall of the blade, and the subsequent crash of splintering wood as she was thrown from the scaffolding. Thinking of her escape was like a drug. It comforted her during the long days of torment.

Sitting up, stomach muscle
s screaming, Kanon dumped the water into the now half-full vessels. Exhaling, she released herself to the ground, replaying in her mind how surprised Julius looked when she spoke English. Smiling to herself, she dipped the teacups into the water, her muscles straining as she sat up. Reaching the top of the cross, she paused for a moment of relief.

“Again,” called the voice behind her.

Sighing,
Kanon released her hold, shakily extending her torso to the ground. Taking such a break had been a mistake. It was much harder to start again.

Kanon
wondered if this was some kind of purgatory. Every day was the same. She rose at sunrise, retrieving water from a mountain stream. After that, she collected the monk for their morning walk. In practice, these were more like forced marches, up and down variable terrain with nothing more than cloth shoes to protect her feet. These walks used to be painful, but Kanon had since developed thick callouses.

T
he monk was not prone to discussion. Therefore, Kanon was left to her own thoughts, dedicating much time to analyzing the Julius Arnold case. The more she pondered it, the more suspect the whole situation appeared. What if she had not accidently happened upon Julius Arnold, what if he had come to find her? As Director Hay’s daughter, Julius was obviously keen to send a message, starting with lopping off her head.

If she had made this connection, perhaps Chief Smiley had as well—maybe this was
why he sent her to training instead of bringing her home. Her father was a great man, but he was altogether too trusting when it came to his employees. Chief Smiley never had Kanon’s best interests at heart. It seemed he only wanted her out of the way to preserve his relationship with Director Hay. It was very like Smiley to be threatened by Kanon, something she found amusing.

With only her thoughts as comfort,
the training droned on. Kanon began to lose track of time entirely. Was she there for several weeks, or months? The monk was not an ideal companion. He would only sit, unmoving, still in his meditation. They did not talk, and he never imparted wisdom, other than hasten her on when she slackened. Kanon found herself slipping away, dissolving into her hardened routine. The strong physique that developed revealed a person Kanon hardly recognized.

As her time ther
e progressed, it was clear why this training was so effective for inspectors. Not only were they able to deal with the physical demands of their work, but it was the mental capacity that served them so well. With the threat of PTS looming, the ability to disconnect from the stresses of travel was necessary.

Kanon
wondered why she was never sent to this training before. Did her father think she couldn’t handle it? He awarded her a high-profile post, because that’s what she wanted. It was now abundantly clear that this approach was all wrong. Kanon had to crawl before she walked.

Lost in her thoughts,
Kanon felt a dribble of water. Sitting up, she realized the basins were overflowing. Hopping down from the cross, she stretched her aching limbs. Noting the setting sun, she removed the jugs, dumping the water into the basins below—ready to start again the next day.

Not waiting for the monk, she began her evening chores. She didn’t want to
delay this process. The area came alive at night, and she wanted to be safely ensconced in the shack before nightfall.

Kanon
knew she was dreaming, recognizing the familiar set up of a recurring nightmare. She was in her boudoir in Versailles, preparing for the masquerade ball. Moving to her wardrobe, she began pulling out dress after dress, finding each one pitted with holes or horribly stained. She heard pounding on the door.

“
Cécile, hurry!” the Duchess urged.

Kanon
frantically searched for something to wear, while the Duchess banged on the door. Just as the pounding reached a fever pitch, Kanon awoke—instinctively holding her arms up so the maid can begin dressing her for the day.

Realizing where she was,
Kanon collapsed onto her cot. She was not in Versailles. She was in training camp, and there were no maids here.

After her morning chores, she returned to
her exercise. Just before she began, a small voice stopped her.

“
Today, we move on,” the monk said.

Kanon
turned, as the monk removed several sticks of incense from his robes. Lighting them, he placed them firmly in the ground. Pulling her above them, he slapped her knees to bend, positioning her in a chair pose. On top of her shoulders, he placed the teacups, filled with water.

“Hold,” he commanded.

Kanon took deep breaths, trying to wrap her mind around the change in routine. As her chair position faltered, the tip of the incense burned the back of her legs. Wincing, she inched up, holding the strenuous pose. The monk, oblivious to her discomfort, had closed his eyes in meditation. Kanon closed hers as well, trying to find her center.

Her knees knocked together
, the sweat from her body poured down her back, threatening to put out the very incense she hovered above. She searched for a memory that would comfort her—something that would take her mind far away.

She thought of her introduction to the Directorate.
From the start, it was clear she didn’t fit in with the other inspectors. Those alpha male types who were quick to prove a point and less interested in the facts to back it up. Kanon accepted her assignment in pre-revolutionary France with relief. The comforts of court life at Versailles suited her—the assignment, the opportunity of a lifetime.

But after the bloom faded,
Kanon realized the work of an inspector was shockingly mundane. Because punishments to time travel violations were so severe, the majority of travels to restricted areas were honest mistakes. Until she ran into Julius, her only case had been a confused Florida couple. Having been alerted to the interlopers by Central Computer, Kanon was able to arrive at their exact location.

To see their bemused faces when she approached them from her fine carriage, dressed in the
opulence of the French court, felt good. And as she sent them on their way, she wished she could do more for the Directorate. After almost five years in the field, she had gotten her wish and much more. And now it was all over, her memories were the only remnants of her time at Versailles.

Straining in her pose,
Kanon wondered if Vin felt the same. After such a successful first mission, did he feel a crushing emptiness once it was all over? Frowning, Kanon felt her legs fall slightly, the heat of incense less intense as it burned to the ground.

Finally, the monk rose, removing the incense and gesturing to the shack.

Kanon collapsed on the ground, holding her aching legs in a satisfying stretch. How long had she held the pose? It seemed like ages. Judging from the location of the sun, and the monk’s eagerness to retreat to the shack, she assumed it was lunchtime.

Entering the structure, her nose confirmed her suspicions. After partaking in a simple meal of rice and vegetables, she felt energized. Slowly, bit by bit, she was getting better.

After lunch, Kanon was ready for another round of incense related torture when the monk again surprised her, guiding her to a circle of basins, each filled to the brim with water.

“Leap from
one to the other,” the monk directed.

H
e deftly climbed atop one vessel, the height just clearing Kanon’s waist. Appearing as if he was dancing on air, he leapt from one to the other, pushing off the narrow lip of each vessel. He finished the circle of basins with a dramatic pose of one hand thrust upward in the air, the other neatly tucked behind his waist.

He hopped off and
wagged his finger at Kanon—his face in a broad grin. Swallowing heavily, she pulled herself onto one jug. Gripping the edge with her shoes, she tried to steady herself. Attempting to emulate his lightness, she jumped to the next vessel. Landing with both feet on the rim, she flailed her arms in an attempt to keep her balance. Losing the battle, there was nowhere else to fall but into the water jug. She landed with a splash, hitting her side on the way down.

Sputtering to the surface,
Kanon gasped for air. The monk did not look pleased. Now soaking wet, Kanon pulled herself up onto the edge of the vessel, finding her balance. Leaping into the air, she landed delicately on the adjacent water vessel, and on the next—completing the circle as the monk did before her.

T
he monk nodded firmly, clapping his hands together.

“Continue.”

Excited with this seal of approval, Kanon began the circle again, her heart thumping with anxiety.

Is this what
Vin endured for two years? Kanon was not sure she would make it, and Vin didn’t strike her as someone who would accept defeat easily.