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CHAPTER TWO



Four hours later, Isaac sent his finished report off to Raviv, then closed the virtual screens over his desk and stood up.

“I’m heading home,” he said to Susan. “Don’t work too late, okay?”

“I’ll try not to,” Susan replied, staring intently at her screen.

“Also, Nina’s been bugging me for updates. You hear anything back from the director yet?”

“We won’t be hearing back for a while.”

“Why not? It’s been long enough for his reply to come back.”

“No, because I haven’t sent the request yet.”

“Excuse me?” Isaac asked. “You haven’t sent it?”

“I’m still writing it.”

“But didn’t you start working on that four hours ago?”

“I want to make sure it’s good enough,” she defended.

“Don’t you think you’re cutting it a little close? Our flight leaves tomorrow morning, so if Nina’s going to be on it…”

“I know.” Susan checked a virtual clock on her desk. “I still have time.”

“What seems to be the holdup?”

“It’s…here. Would you mind taking a look? I could use a second opinion.”

“Sure, no problem.” Isaac rounded the desk and took a knee beside Susan. The privacy filter lifted, and the text of her message crystalized.

Except he couldn’t read it. She’d written the message in the Admin’s version of Modern English, which was a combination of what people nowadays referred to as Old English and Old Spanish. He could make out about half the words, but the sum of it was still gibberish to him.

He activated a translation program through his wetware, and the text reappeared as the SysGov version of Modern English, which incorporated pieces of Old English and Old Chinese, though the tonal inflections from Old Chinese were now used to convey a subtext of meaning to the words. However, since Admin English lacked any equivalent, the translated text read a bit flat to him.

Though that wasn’t the only problem.

Not by a long shot.

“Oh dear.” Isaac began scrolling through the message. It took a while to find the bottom.

“You see what I’m dealing with, don’t you?”

“It’s a tad on the long side, I’d say.”

“I know, but all of it’s important. Trust me on this. I need to make a solid case if we’re to have any hope of getting Nina her ticket.”

“Hmm.” Isaac picked a passage at random. “‘Allotment of additional resources will lead to multitudinous beneficial factors. See bullet point list below.’”

“What do you think?”

“Your bullet points have bullet points.”

“That’s because I have a lot of points to make.”

“Maybe so, but…” He picked another passage. “‘Incontrovertible positive influence on cross-transdimensional political and social landscape.’”

“You don’t like it?” Susan asked, sounding worried.

“I think you’re leaning too heavily on your thesaurus.”

“Maybe, but I don’t want to come across as an idiot.”

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a bit?”

“Of course not. Trust me, Isaac. You have no idea how much scrutiny a request like this is going to receive. Never mind the fact that I’m”—she leaned toward him and whispered conspiratorially—“basically asking for a freebie so a friend can see the tournament live. Let’s be honest, everything I’ve written here is complete crap.”

“Yes, I think we can agree on that.”

“But it’s necessary crap. I’m trying my best to mask the true intent behind the request.”

“Susan, I think you’re getting more worked up over this than it warrants.”

She leaned back from him. “You think so?”

“I do. Part of your job is to be a representative for your people. Doesn’t this request fit in with all that?”

“You mean, by using my influence to help the sister of a coworker attend a first-of-its-kind event live?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it does sound a little dubious.”

Susan let out a weary sigh and turned back to her letter.

“You think it’s good enough to send like this?”

“Sure, why not?” He stood up. “Zhǔ hǎo yún,” he added, inflecting the versatile SysGov phrase with a tonal subtext that transformed the Old Chinese words for “good luck” into something close to “nothing ventured, nothing gained” or “we make our own luck.”

“Point taken,” Susan said. “All right, I’m going to send it.”

“That’s the spirit.” He patted her on the shoulder. “After all, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Ahh!” Susan covered her face. “Please stop saying things like that!”

* * *

Over 1.3 billion kilometers away in Argus Station over Earth, Jonas Shigeki had a problem, and unlike most of the difficulties he faced in his position as head of DTI Foreign Affairs, the current problem was almost entirely his fault.

This is why I hate after-lunch meetings, he thought to himself as the mind-numbing presentation continued.

“And now here you can see a surprising breakdown from the survey results of grid nine-dash-three-dash-twelve,” Doctor Andover-Chen continued to drone on, the mathematical equations under his synthoid’s black, glassy skin glowing brighter with enthusiasm. “Surprisingly, chronometric field intensity in this transverse grid is three percent stronger than surrounding grids, indicating the presence of an as-yet-undiscovered anomaly. Please reference exhibit nine-dash-three-dash-twelve-alpha in your supplemental material for more details.”

The room’s four dozen occupants stirred from their lethargy, each person swiping to the next slide in their abstract handouts. Researchers, agents, and analysts from both the Admin’s DTI and SysPol’s Gordian Division filled the conference room deep in Argus Station, all assembled for a soporific series of presentations put on by the Gordian Division’s chief scientist, Doctor Andover-Chen, and his counterpart in the DTI, Doctor Katja Hinnerkopf.

The Gordian Division was the newest addition to SysPol, born out of the destruction caused by the Gordian Knot, a chaotic anomaly of knotted timelines centered around 1940 that nearly destroyed sixteen universes. The organization had grown in leaps and bounds since its inception, and its relationship with the DTI—while contentious and suspicious at first—had improved drastically after both groups joined forces to resolve a second existential calamity, now called the Dynasty Crisis.

The meeting Jonas now found himself in was part of a series of workshops and seminars put on by and for various members of both organizations, which would then culminate late next week in high-level discussions between DTI Director-General Csaba Shigeki, his father, and Commissioner Klaus-Wilhelm von Schröder of the Gordian Division, along with their respective senior staffs.

Jonas prided himself on sensing the flow of events hidden beneath the surface, of gauging where those eddies and currents might lead, extrapolating what dangers might lie ahead and then—with the utmost care—nudging the flow in the most beneficial direction.

But he couldn’t do that if he had no idea what was coming down the chute!

Jonas glanced over at Hinnerkopf. The stern, compact woman with her severe buzz cut stood beside Andover-Chen at the head of the room, patiently attentive as her counterpart drudged through yet another banal exhibit.

Yes, surveying the transverse—the binding fabric that connected individual universes and held the greater multiverse together—was important. Yes, the TTVs of Gordian Division and chronoports of the DTI had discovered some unusual phenomena out there, but what he really wanted to know was what Andover-Chen and Hinnerkopf were up to, and so he’d signed up for every single workshop the two were putting on this week.

God help me, he thought sullenly.

Jonas had pressed Hinnerkopf repeatedly over the past few days, but she’d been tight-lipped, only hinting at a “proposal of monumental proportions,” a description which did not put him at ease. He was the Director of Foreign Affairs, damn it! Any collaborative projects fell under his jurisdiction! But Hinnerkopf had insisted this unannounced project would fit under her authority as Under-Director of Technology.

Jonas knew his father had received a preview of Hinnerkopf’s mystery proposal, and he assumed Commissioner Schröder had as well from Andover-Chen, which implied they’d given their consent for the upcoming negotiations to proceed. He’d tried hitting up his father for the details, but all that had gotten him was some vague reference to a “large, collaborative project” and instructions to wait for Hinnerkopf’s formal presentation.

What sort of “large, collaborative project”? How was he supposed to ensure their two sides worked well together if he had no idea which cliff they were about to leap off?

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Oh no!

The worst part—the absolute worst—was the fact that he could barely keep his eyes open!

“Moving on, please open exhibit nine-dash-three-dash-twelve-beta. Here you can see…”

The room stirred as everyone swiped.

It’s my own damn fault, Jonas thought morosely.

As a rule, he ate light lunches because he knew of his tendency to become sleepy after a heavy meal. But today the chefs in the Argus executive café had served this absolutely amazing macaroni and cheese side with bacon bits, tomatoes, and mushrooms mixed in a creamy five-cheese blend and topped with seasoned bread crumbles. It tasted so good Jonas had ordered a second helping.

And then a third.

And then he boxed up a fourth to go.

Now all those carbs sat in his stomach like a leaden lump, dragging down his mental acuity and alertness with all the inevitability of a black hole consuming a neighboring star.

It didn’t help that the room was dark and warm. He propped his cheek up on a fist and stared at the presentation through drooping eyelids.

“Chronoton movement in this region also bears investigation,” Andover-Chen continued. “As you can tell from exhibit nine-dash-three-dash-twelve-gamma, the survey showed a statistical anomaly in the distribution of chronoton particles, with forty-seven percent moving forward in time and a surprisingly high fifty-three percent traveling into the past. This discrepancy in the distribution from the typical fifty-fifty split indicates…”

Jonas’ brain waded through the thick, mental sludge. He had a strong desire to get up, walk over to the nearest wall, and beat his head into it until he felt better. The suffocating deluge of technical jargon oozed over him, threatening to drag him under—

An alert appeared in his virtual vision, and he perked up, thankful for the interruption. He saw it was from Special Agent Susan Cantrell, and he opened the message with privacy filters engaged.

He began reading, and soon a different kind of deluge assaulted his senses. He scrolled down through the message, skimming its contents.

What the hell is she after? he wondered, picking through the word salad in front of him. “Further germinate positive foreign relations with enhanced social outreach.” Germinate? Someone needs to confiscate this woman’s thesaurus.

He glanced up at Andover-Chen, and saw he was still talking about chronotons acting weird, so he returned to Cantrell’s message and read on.

Why do her bullet points have bullet points? he asked himself. “Showcase Admin generosity with unsolicited magnanimity.” Come on, Agent, get to the frickin’ point already!

He started skipping more and more of the letter, searching without success for the purpose behind it all.

What the hell is she asking me for? An assault cruiser?

And then he found it, tucked neatly into the last paragraph of Cantrell’s magnum opus of word mush.

All this for an extra ticket and a third hotel room? Oh, good grief!

Jonas swiped the APPROVE toggle and hit SEND without giving the request another thought.

* * *

Isaac stood in the middle of his modest apartment on Kronos Station, hands on hips as he surveyed the room, trying to think if he’d forgotten anything. As a Themis Division detective, he spent most nights in hotel rooms, and the apartment reflected his frequent absence. The pale, cream-colored walls were almost completely devoid of decoration, except near his gaming recliner and its dual infosystem towers, where virtual character sheets from Solar Descent floated in the air.

“You think I should buy a swim trunk pattern? Susan mentioned she wanted to go to the beach.”

“If you want,” Cephalie said, her avatar seated atop the back of the recliner, legs dangling over the edge. “But there’s no need to do that tonight. There’ll be stores on the saucer, and plenty more at the resort.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Isaac walked over to the bed and stared down at the modest travel case. It contained two spare uniforms, his pajamas (which were well-worn and super comfy, so he preferred not to reprint them at each hotel), as well as a collection of pattern permits for any formal- or casualwear he thought he’d need later.

“What’s wrong?” Cephalie asked.

“I know I’m forgetting something.”

“You’ve been living out of that case for five years. You’ll be fine.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you. But I don’t travel for fun very much.” He glanced over at his IC. “And yes, I know this isn’t a vacation, but we’re going to have some free time on Luna before we head back. Plus, I’m sure Susan will want to see the sights.”

“Even if you do forget something, just buy it there and print it out when you need it.”

“You’re right, of course.” He gave the travel case one last look then closed the lid. The programmable-steel exterior morphed to form a seamless outer shell.

An incoming message blinked in his abstract vision. He opened the comm window, and a smiling Susan appeared.

“Hey, Susan. What’s up?”

“Isaac!” she began excitedly. “I received a reply from the director!”

“Oh, good. And?”

“He approved a third ticket! I’ve also got her flight pass for tomorrow, and she’ll have her own hotel room in the Crimson Flower.”

“That’s wonderful. I’ll let Nina know. Unless you already have.”

“No, I called you first. You can tell her if you like.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of that.”

“I’m actually surprised how quickly his response came. And even then, I thought it’d be a message saying how my request has been forwarded to such-and-such group for further review. I didn’t expect a positive response so soon!”

“See? I told you nothing bad would happen.”

“I bet all those bullet points really helped sell my case.”

“Something clearly caught his eye, though I’m not sure it was that.”

“Or maybe it was all the fancy language I used.” Susan rubbed her chin. “You know, I should keep that message handy for future reference. Next time I need something, I can pull it up as a template.”

“If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, thanks again for helping out my sister. I’m going to give her a call and share the good news.”

“Just glad I could help. Any time, Isaac.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Later.”

Susan disconnected from her side. Isaac opened a new window and selected Nina’s connection string.

“Hey,” she said after a few rings.

“Hey, sis.”

“You got something good for me?”

“You bet. Susan has your ticket.”

“Nice!”

“You’re flying over with us, so make sure you don’t miss the saucer. I’m sure Raviv has left for the day, but you know how he is. Just send him a priority message, and he’ll process your PTO request, even when it’s this late.”

“What, are you kidding?” Nina gave him a sneaky smile. “He approved my vacation time hours ago. I knew Susan would pull through.”


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