CHAPTER ONE
Under-Director Jonas Shigeki of the Department of Temporal Investigation was not from SysGov. In fact, he wasn’t even from the same universe. He’d been born on a version of Earth governed by the System Cooperative Administration, or the Admin for short, and yet he found himself sitting at a round conference room table near the core of Argus Station, surrounded by seven titans of SysGov society: the SysPol Chief of Police and his six division commissioners.
Jonas swept his gaze across the occupants, taking in the extraordinary people he’d come to know in the months he’d spent in this foreign universe. He was but a simple human of meat and neurons who had only recently celebrated his thirty-fifth birthday. He was a veritable youngster by SysGov standards, forced to deal with century-old veterans who’d transitioned into immortal synthoid bodies, purely abstract existences with no physical avatars, and a war hero plucked from 1958 in his own universe!
He was so totally, overwhelmingly, ridiculously out of his depth that he felt a desire to laugh at the absurdity.
And yet he had them exactly where he wanted them.
He sat there clad in the blue uniform and peaked cap of an Admin Peacekeeper with his long black hair bound in a ponytail, though he’d pushed his cap back to the point where it looked ready to fall off if he leaned back too far.
The moment to strike had finally arrived.
“These selections seem”—he paused for dramatic effect—“safe.”
“Safe?” Chief Oliver Lamont echoed, sounding as if he didn’t comprehend the problem. The bicentennial synthoid tugged his darker blue uniform straight and creased the dark skin of his brow.
“Conservative,” Jonas clarified.
Lamont glanced at the five SysPol detective profiles hovering in their shared virtual vision over the center of the table. He frowned and turned back to Jonas.
“I’m sorry, Director. I fail to see the problem.”
“Would you instead prefer an officer from a different division?” asked Commissioner Vesna Tyrel, head of the detectives of Themis Division. She watched him with piercing gray eyes, and her long snow-white hair framed the pale, flawless skin of her oval face.
“Not at all. I think the choice of Themis is an inspired one.” Jonas gestured around the table with an open hand. “Almost all interactions between the Admin and SysGov have taken place like this, at the highest echelons of our governments. That’s fine as a starting point, but we must eventually move on from there by allowing our societies to mingle at lower levels, and I wholeheartedly agree that pairing a DTI agent with a Themis detective is a superb next step.”
Jonas’ eyes flicked to Commissioner Klaus-Wilhelm von Schröder, head of the Gordian Division. Besides Jonas, he was the youngest person at the table, and yet his growing influence over the other division heads had led them all here.
Relations between the DTI and the Gordian Division, not to mention SysGov and the Admin in general, were on the upswing after a successful joint military operation against the ill-fated—and now obliterated—Dynasty universe. Interactions had become so cordial between the two time-travel enforcement agencies that Commissioner Schröder and Director-General Csaba Shigeki, Jonas’ own father, took time out of their busy schedules to meet face-to-face on a weekly rotation, alternating which universe they met in for what amounted to informal “working lunches.”
Schröder had proposed an initial pilot for an officer exchange program at one of those lunches. SysGov President Byakko, once she learned of his initiative, had taken it several steps further by offering the Admin free rein on selecting both sides of the partnership, the timing of the exchange, where the two would fit within the SysPol organization—basically everything—as a means to help alleviate the Admin’s phobias concerning some SysGov technologies and cultural practices. Shigeki Senior had latched onto the gracious gesture with gusto and had appointed Jonas to oversee the pair’s selection.
It was an important task, and one Jonas took extremely seriously, though he could forgive those around him for thinking otherwise.
“So, Themis Division it is,” Tyrel reiterated. “But you find these five options unsatisfactory?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Jonas gave the list a casual wave.
“But you’re also not the biggest fan of them? Why is that, exactly?” Commissioner Peng Fa asked, his glowing blue eyes narrowing from his virtual seat across the table. His digital avatar’s skin was the black of night, and he wore the dark red of Arete Division’s first responders. Of all the commissioners, he was the most antagonistic during these meetings, perhaps because the Admin tightly regulated its AIs, a practice many in SysGov characterized as slavery.
Jonas smiled pleasantly at the abstract commissioner.
“They seem a bit…suboptimal to me, shall we say?”
“I’m still not sure what the problem is,” Lamont said. “Are these detectives not up to the task at hand?”
“Oh, heavens no!” Jonas assured them. “All five are qualified for the program, though perhaps they’re a little too qualified.”
“I wasn’t aware that could be a problem,” Lamont admitted.
“Recall what I just said about the ‘upper echelons’ of our societies. We’re trying to get away from that here.” He pointed to the profiles. “These five are…too experienced. I feel a more junior pairing will benefit us here.”
“‘Too experienced.’” Lamont grimaced sourly as he stared at the profiles. “‘More junior.’”
“Yes,” Jonas agreed brightly. “Just so.”
“I suppose I could give it another try,” Tyrel said with something reminiscent of a weary sigh. “Perhaps I can have another batch picked out for us to review in three days?”
“Oh, I hardly think that’s necessary,” Jonas said.
“I’m sorry?” Tyrel blinked, the confusion inflicting Lamont now spreading to her.
“Why don’t we pick out someone right now?” Jonas offered.
“Now?” Tyrel raised both eyebrows.
“Sure. Why not?”
“But I need time to request a new round of volunteers and vet their applications.” She turned to Lamont. “Chief?”
“Let’s just get this over with,” Lamont grumbled.
“But, sir?”
“The Admin has final say in the selection. Isn’t that right, Klaus?”
“That was the agreement, sir, yes,” Schröder said neutrally. “I believe the president characterized her approach as ‘a small token of friendship and trust to the Admin for the lives they lost fighting alongside us.’”
“She did indeed,” Lamont breathed, staring blankly at a distant patch of wall.
Jonas supposed the SysGov president had seen the officer exchange program as an opportunity to score some political points with the Admin chief executor, but what she’d actually done—wittingly or otherwise—was place all the program’s strings in his hands.
“We will honor her wishes,” Lamont continued, “regardless of any…misgivings we may have.” He turned to Jonas. “Director, this is your show.”
“Thank you, Chief.” Jonas leaned in with a forearm on the table. “First, Commissioner Tyrel, would you mind pulling up the full detective roster?”
“All right.”
The five profiles vanished, and a massive spreadsheet of names appeared over the table.
“Now filter for detectives with five or fewer years of experience. Aged forty or younger. Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind displaying each detective’s current location, please.”
“Easy enough.”
The table shrank considerably, but each line was still too small to read.
“Are the rows numbered?” Jonas asked as his implants analyzed the list. “It’s a little hard to tell.”
“They are.”
“How about…” Jonas held up his hand, and a number flashed into existence. “Three hundred and twenty-two. Who’s on that row?”
“Did you really just generate a value at random?”
“Maybe.”
“Chief?” Tyrel protested.
“Just do what he asks,” Lamont groaned.
Tyrel shook her head, but opened the profile regardless. She paused and regarded it with trepidation.
It was a short profile.
Very short.
“Seems we’re looking at a Detective Isaac—”
“—Cho!” Isaac smiled at his twin sister. “It has a good ring to it, don’t you think?”
“If you say so,” Nina Cho dismissed with a roll of her eyes as they headed toward the Argus Station hangar.
Both Cho twins wore the standard dark blue of SysPol with the Themis Division’s golden eye and magnifying glass at their shoulders. They were on the short and slender side of SysGov norms, though not overly so, with sharp brown eyes and black hair cut short.
“Detective Isaac Cho,” he repeated. “Not ‘acting’ detective. Not ‘deputy’ detective. Just straight-up full detective. And you, too! Specialist Nina Cho! No more ‘acting specialist’ for you.” He let out a content, satisfied sigh. “It’s been a long road, but here we are at last.”
“Yup.”
Isaac turned to her. “You don’t seem excited.”
“And why should I be?”
“Because we made it!” Isaac threw up his arms in triumph. “Ten long years! Five in the academy and five more as ‘acting’ officers. That’s a whole third of our lives invested in this, and we made it!”
“Yup.”
Isaac frowned and dropped his arms. “Somehow I thought you’d be happier.”
“I am happy,” Nina said with a shrug. “I just resent what a god-awful hassle it was having to come all the way to Earth for a five-hour induction ceremony.”
“Actually”—Isaac opened a file above his palm—“only four hours and seventeen minutes.”
“You timed it?” She gave him a disgusted look.
“No, I recorded it.”
“Of course, you would.” She shook her head.
“Want a copy?” He offered her the file.
“Hell no!” She pushed his hand away.
“Suit yourself.” Isaac closed the virtual display. “I thought Commissioner Tyrel’s opening speech was very inspirational. Definitely worth a rewatch.”
The twins stepped into the hangar where the elliptical, eighty-meter-long SysPol corvette sat in its cradle with the prog-steel open at the nose and a ramp extruded down to the deck. They checked in with a deck officer clad in the patrol fleet black of Argo Division, who confirmed their identities and authorized them to board the corvette bound for Saturn. They climbed the ramp and were about to step into the forward cargo hold when virtual barriers materialized in front of Isaac, forming a police cordon between him and the corvette’s interior.
“Umm.” He regarded the cordon curiously, then poked it with a finger. Alarms blared in his virtual hearing, and he winced. “Well, that’s not good.”
“What did you do this time?” Nina asked, walking through the cordon without incident.
“What do you mean, ‘this time’?” Isaac shot back.
The deck officer hurried over and switched off the alarm. She opened an interface in front of her and scrolled down until she found Isaac’s boarding entry.
“That can’t be right,” she said, tilting her head to the side.
“What can’t be?” Isaac asked.
“Seems your boarding pass has been revoked.”
“Are you sure? There must be some mistake. I’m scheduled to leave for Saturn with my sister.” He gestured to Nina. “We requested transport on the same ship, but I can take another ride if we’re causing trouble.”
“Sorry, Detective, but that’s not the problem. Your outbound authorization has been yanked in its entirety.”
“Oh.” Isaac glanced over the cordon again. “Any indication why?”
“Not that I can see.”
A private alert blinked to life in the corner of Isaac’s vision, indicating an urgent message, and he stared at it, wondering at its timing, before finally opening it. He had to read it three times before the contents set in, and his eyes grew wider with each pass.
“This says I’m to report to the Chief of Police immediately?!”
“Oh my God! You did do something!” Nina accused with a gleeful gleam in her eyes.
“Did not!”
“They probably didn’t like you recording the ceremony,” Nina said with a wry grin.
“No,” Isaac stressed. “That’s allowed. I checked beforehand.”
“Then why have you been called to the boss’s office?”
“I…rightfully don’t know.”
“You should probably find out, then.”
“But…”
“Best not keep the boss waiting. Especially when it’s the big boss.”
“But, I…we’re supposed to…I mean…” He looked over to the deck officer, who nodded in agreement with his sister.
“Nothing I can do for you here, Detective,” she said in manner of an apology.
“Yes, I suppose not.” Isaac closed the message and straightened his posture. “Well, sis, I guess I’ll see you back on Kronos. Have a safe journey.”
“Zhù hǎo yùn,” Nina said as both a goodbye and a wish for good luck, though her tonal subtext gave the phrase a touch of biting humor.
“Yes, I think I’ll need some of that,” Isaac replied dryly, then turned and headed for the nearest counter-grav tube.
The tube dropped Isaac off near the heart of Argus Station. He looked around the circular space, gathered his bearings, and followed the virtual arrows down one of several spoking corridors. Room labels hovered over doors on either side, and he stopped at one marked EXECUTIVE CONFERENCE ROOM 6: OCCUPIED near the end of the corridor. He submitted his ID to the door’s infosystem, but the door only buzzed at him and blinked red.
“Argus?” he asked. “I was told to meet the Chief of Police here. May I come in?”
“Chief Lamont will be with you shortly,” replied the station’s nonsentient attendant. “Please wait here, Detective.”
A programmable-steel chair formed out of the wall to one side of the room label.
Isaac sat down and waited while his mind churned through recent events, searching for some explanation for why his departure had been canceled, but try as he might, he couldn’t think of a single reason that made sense, and that went double for why the Chief of Police would want to see a detective as junior as he was.
“Hey, Cephalie?” he asked. “Any idea what this is all about?”
“Not a clue.”
An avatar of a miniature woman appeared on his left thigh, standing about a third of the way up his chest. Today, Encephalon wore a long, red coat with blue gloves, a blue bow tie, and a small blue hat with a single red rose pinned in it. The lenses of her circular wireframe glasses were opaque, and she pushed them higher up the bridge of her nose.
Cephalie was a purely synthetic mind as well as Isaac’s integrated companion, and they’d been happily paired for all five of the years since he’d received his wetware implants upon becoming an adult at the age of twenty-five. She’d once been a SysPol officer herself, and Isaac suspected from the start her interest in him had been based more on a desire for mentorship than companionship.
Which he didn’t have any problems with; he’d benefited richly from her wealth of knowledge and experience on more than a few cases already.
“Not even a little clue?” Isaac asked.
“I’ve been asking around since Lamont messaged you. Even tried looking up his schedule to see what meeting he’s in, but Argus gave me a slap on the wrist and told me—in no uncertain terms—to mind my own business.”
“But this is our business,” Isaac protested.
“I know that, and you know that, but Argus?” She planted her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Overbearing number crunchers. What can you do about them?”
“Nothing but wait, I suppose.” He settled deeper into the chair’s prog-foam cushion. “Thanks for trying.”
“My pleasure.” Her glasses twinkled, and she vanished.
Isaac exhaled slowly and drummed his fingers on his thighs. He glanced sideways at the closed door, cleared his throat, and continued to wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
Finally, the door chimed at him.
“Chief Lamont will see you now.”
“Thank you, Argus.” He rose from his seat, straightened his uniform, and walked up to the door. Prog-steel split open down the middle, and he took one step inside—
—and froze.
Chief Lamont and all six division commissioners watched him from their seats at the table, and the weight of their gazes turned his legs to stone. Isaac had expected Lamont, had braced himself for a face-to-face meeting with the man in charge of SysPol, but what were all six of the commissioners doing here? He could maybe understand Commissioner Tyrel’s presence, since he worked in her division, but why would any of the others want to see him?
His mind raced in a quest to find an answer, and he began to wonder how much trouble he’d landed himself in. His eyes gravitated to an empty chair at Lamont’s left, pulled back and still spinning. Had someone just left through the room’s rear exit?
Lamont, perhaps sensing his unease, beckoned him forward with a hand.
“Detective Cho, please come in.”
Isaac became acutely aware of his motionless feet.
“Oh. Right.” He stepped forward and stood at attention next to the table as the door sealed shut behind him. “Sorry, sir. I’m just rather surprised to find myself standing here.”
“So are we, as it turns out.”
Isaac wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, but he kept his mouth shut and waited for the chief to continue.
“Detective, I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve called you here today. It’s really quite simple. We’re considering you for a special assignment, though I can’t reveal the nature of the assignment at this time.”
“A special assignment?” Isaac pointed to his chest. “Me?”
“Yes, Detective. You.”
The stress from a few moments ago melted off him. This was better than he could have hoped for!
“I’m honored you would even consider me, sir, but are you sure I’m suitable for this assignment? My probationary period only ended today.”
“We’re well aware of your record,” Lamont said. “After a careful and lengthy review process—”
Commissioner Tyrel put a hand to her forehead and started rubbing her temples.
“—we’ve decided you meet some of the necessary requirements. For the next step, we have a series of questions we’d like to ask you. Do you have any problems with that?”
“Of course not, sir. Ask away.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your understanding, Detective. First, would you please give us your take on the Admin?”
Isaac blinked. “The Admin, sir?”
“Yes. What do you think of them?”
“Well, I don’t really know what to say, sir. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t given them much thought. Certainly, I’ve seen them in the news, but I’ve never met anyone from the Admin before, nor have I studied—or had reason to study—any of the unclassified reports we have on them. I don’t think I’m qualified to offer anything approaching a proper analysis.”
“Be that as it may, please, indulge us.” Lamont spread his palms. “All we’re looking for is your opinion of them. Not an analysis.”
“I see, sir,” Isaac replied, stalling for time more than anything.
Lamont and the others wanted to hear a particular answer from him, and the prize for the correct response was this mysterious assignment. That much seemed clear to Isaac, but he had no idea what answer they wanted, and he was woefully unequipped to even speculate on the matter. He glanced to Tyrel, thinking he might see some hint from his division’s commissioner, but she gazed sullenly down at the table surface, as if shadowed by a thunderhead of impending doom. The woman’s positivity from when she’d opened the induction ceremony had vanished, and Isaac took no comfort in the dark expression on her face.
He returned his gaze to Lamont.
There was only one thing to do. Only one thing he could do, and that was to be as truthful and forthcoming as he could.
“I think they’re a bunch of thugs, sir,” Isaac began. “Ignorant, brutish thugs. I haven’t seen much of the Admin, but what I’ve seen disgusts me. The militarism, the xenophobia, the AI slavery, the way they unfairly swindled us out of our drive tech. Their government seems to be made up of thugs who believe might makes right and the ends justify the means. Oh, and the less said about their prisons the better! Can you believe they forcefully extract people’s connectomes and dump them into unsupervised abstractions? What kind of a ‘civilized’ society does something like that?”
Isaac hadn’t realized how loud his voice had grown near the end. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and waited. The room was silent for long, uncomfortable seconds.
Lamont’s jaw twitched, and Isaac’s heart sank. An icy chill ran down his spine as he realized this wasn’t anything close to the answer the chief had been hoping for.
“So, yes,” Isaac added to fill the silence. “That’s my honest opinion, sir.”
“And so it is. Thank you for your”—Lamont smiled without joy or humor—“candid response. Please wait outside while we discuss your answer.”
Jonas Shigeki couldn’t believe his good fortune. The number he’d given Tyrel may not have been as random as he’d led them to believe, but it was still random, though filtered by a few more parameters than the ones he’d listed. He lacked access to the detailed backgrounds in Themis Division’s official roster, and as such, he’d fully expected to have to go through this exercise a few times before he found a detective with all the traits he was looking for.
But to find the ideal candidate on the first try! Remarkable!
While Lamont and the commissioners had scrutinized Isaac Cho’s meager professional record, Jonas had instead run a quick search through the young detective’s social profiles, and that’s where he found the key traits he’d been looking for. Oh, had he found them in spades!
Cho’s impromptu rant about the Admin’s failings—some of which Jonas even agreed with—only made him a better choice. He especially liked the part about how the DTI had “swindled” the transdimensional drive tech from Gordian; he was proud of that one, since he’d led the effort. Regardless, what was the point in selecting someone who already held a neutral or even positive outlook on the Admin? No, a little negativity—as long as it wasn’t entrenched—provided a far better starting point, because success in the officer exchange program would play out in how those attitudes changed.
All it’ll take is the right two people, he thought. And now I have both of them!
The conference room’s rear door split open, and Jonas strode in with all the swagger of a general about to accept his foe’s unconditional surrender. He spun his chair around, dropped into it, and leaned back into the comfortable padding.
“So,” he said to Lamont with a wide grin, “what did you think?”
“Perhaps we should select someone else.”
“Really?” Jonas asked with faux surprise. “You didn’t like him?”
Lamont paused for a moment, and the aura of despair over the table grew thicker, almost palpable. Expectations for the officer exchange program had officially hit rock bottom, and Jonas worked to hide his elation.
It’s called controlling expectations, people, he thought, suppressing an inward smile. Try it sometime. Success will be measured against what you expect we’ll achieve, and right now you all think I’m steering the ship straight into a looming asteroid.
“You did hear what he said about your government?” Tyrel asked gently.
“Of course, but he didn’t say anything disqualifying,” Jonas countered. “To the contrary, I feel some of his criticisms are perfectly valid. There’s room for improvement in the Admin, just as there is in any government, and I’d like to remind everyone that our current chief executor was elected on a reformist platform. I dare say it wouldn’t be too hard to find people in the Admin who shared Detective Cho’s views, just as I’m sure your government has its share of vocal detractors.”
“That may be so,” Tyrel said, “but perhaps he’s not the best choice for this program.”
“I have to agree.” Lamont turned to Jonas. “Why don’t you pick someone else out of the roster? We can keep looking until we find a better candidate. I’ll go ahead and clear my schedule for the next—”
“Why go through the trouble?” Jonas interrupted.
“Well…” Lamont paused as if unsure how to make the problem any more obvious. “To be blunt, I don’t think he’ll work out.”
“Respectfully, I’m forced to disagree. I think he’s perfect.”
“By what measure?” Tyrel asked pointedly.
“By the only one that matters, which is how likely this program is to succeed.”
“Chief?” Tyrel stressed, her brow creased with worry.
“He has the final say,” Lamont told her. “Director, are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you sure?” Lamont pointed at the door the detective was waiting outside.
“Oh, yes.” Jonas gave the door a casual wave. “He’ll do fine.”
Lamont leaned back in his seat, a troubled look on his face.
“So”—Jonas placed his forearm on the table and leaned in—“would you like to tell him the good news? Or shall I?”