The Fireseed Wars

SEVENTEEN

Verkan's eyes ran wearily over the stacks of paper, visidisks, data cylinders and memory cubes piled high on his horseshoe desk. I was not, he decided, cut out to be a politician. Unfortunately, that was the nature of the job of Paratime Police Chief.

With almost half a million officers in the field at any one time, reading Code Red reports, making policy decisions, answering requests from important industrialists and politicos and preparing briefings to give to the Paratime Commission for the next budget cycle were all more important than any individual case-or person. Overseeing all that took time and energy. As Czar Nicholas of Russia had said before his untimely death: "I do not rule Russia, ten thousand clerks do."

Despite the fact that Chief Verkan had more than ten thousand clerks to deal with running and maintaining the Department of Paratime Police, there were always those items that had urgent policy or political implications and could only be dealt with by the man in charge. Especially now that it was budget time and once again he would have to fight tooth and nail to keep the Executive Council from eviscerating the Department's budget.

He rolled his shoulders a couple of times to restore circulation. I need to be back in the field. I was a fool to let ex-Chief Tortha talk me into taking this job. He thought back to his last meeting with the Paratime Commissioners and their not so veiled threat to officially reprimand him if he didn't stay at Paratime Police Headquarters: "We strongly suggest no more outtime trips. It's your job to oversee and run the largest constabulary in the Five Levels, not to protect your outtime friends!"

Verkan was not a politician, nor even the least bit fond of the breed. He despised useless staff meetings, memos, red tape (a very useful Fourth Level Europo-American term) and all the other products of professional paper shufflers and bean counters.

On the other hand, the work he performed for the Department was necessary and important; someone had to oversee the men and women who protected Home Time Line and provide controls over those who might otherwise exploit the outtimers ruthlessly. I don't mind that part of the job, I just wish it was someone else doing all the administering.

Dalla had warned him that it might come to this. He suspected his friend Kalvan, sailing in the Hassfryth Sea toward Thagnor City, might feel the same way. Although, Kalvan had it worse; he had almost half a million dependents, women and children whose lives depended upon his decisions and leadership. What Kalvan didn't have were cadres of trained and skilled investigators and officers to back him up, as Verkan did. While Verkan might be an important cog in the Paratime exploitation machine, he wasn't solely responsible for the safety and protection of Home Time Line, as Kalvan was for his subjects.

He shook his head. That was more responsibility than he wanted to contemplate.

He did know that he was very tired of taking orders and dodging bureaucratic bullets and political snipers. Maybe it's time to go visit Kalvan and let the Paratime Commission do what it has to do, he thought.

His intercom beeped. "Chief," his secretary intoned, "Deputy Bureau Chief, Altarn Vor, to see you."

"Send him right in."

The Bureau Chief strode in with his jaw outthrust. "Chief, we've got big problems."

"What now?"

"I had a couple of auditors go over to stores and they've spent the last ten-day trying to reconcile the on-hand and accounted-for inventory. You could manage a small belt with all the missing material!"

"What kind of material, Altarn?"

"Needlers, slug-throwers, anti-grav lifts, food stuffs, conveyers-just about anything you'd need to work outtime."

"Conveyers missing! That's the first I've heard of that. Are you sure Deputy Inspector Barton stole all this stuff?"

"Well, we don't know for sure if it's just lost, misplaced or stolen-yet! We'd like to interview him about all this stuff, but unfortunately, he's missing."

"What do you mean, missing?"

"Chief, he must have gotten wind of our audit. I had an appointment with him for this afternoon; I was going to grill him good. But he's not in the Paratime Building and none of his subordinates know where he is."

"This is bad, very bad. How many conveyers are missing?"

"Hundreds, maybe thousands, Chief," Altarn said, shaking his head. "We may never know. It appears Department of Stores and Equipment computer inventory has been tampered with. Who knows what he's been up to?"

"Well, we'd better find out before word of this disaster leaks out."