Chapter 9: Forcing an Intervention

May 17. The Middle East, the Date Palm Commandery.

The commandery lay at the junction of southwestern Asia and North Africa, with the Gulf to the east and the Red Sea to the west. The terrain sloped down from west to east, with desert covering vast stretches. Summers were hot and dry, with peak temperatures exceeding fifty degrees Celsius and average annual rainfall no greater than two hundred millimeters.

Hidden amid this immense expanse of yellow sand was EAS's largest research facility in the world. Most of the vast, sealed complex lay beneath the sand, extending deep underground. Solar and thermal energy conversion equipment supplied its power, using one of the Empire's classified energy technologies, never disclosed to the public.

Underground, a young Black man in an EAS uniform walked along a corridor in the research facility. His name was Francis, and he was an EAS assessor.

He reached an office and knocked. Instead of calling him in, the person inside opened the electronic door with a switch on the desk.

Time Attendant sat there, pen in hand, writing on a stack of paper.

“Assessor Francis reporting, sir.” Francis stood at attention.

Time Attendant did not look up, merely replying offhandedly, “Sit down.” He hadn't said “Please sit down,” just “Sit down,” which made Francis rather uneasy.

Francis sat stiffly across from Time Attendant. “Deputy Director, regarding Blood Owl's assessment…”

“No results whatsoever.” Still writing with his head down, Time Attendant cut him off decisively. “Just as expected. That's why, before sending you, I told the old man this was a waste of time.”

“I've failed you, sir.” It was all Francis could say.

“Jefferson absolutely refuses to let prisoners of Fierce rank or higher be taken outside the mist for testing, and Blood Owl isn't the sort of prisoner who'll cooperate with us. According to Tea Immortal, neither physical torture nor psychological pressure will make him submit. There's no point even trying. So it's perfectly normal that you couldn't get anything out of him.” Time Attendant paused, then continued, “It's good that you're free of that pointless assignment. Since you have relatively little to do at present, you can accompany me on a mission in four days.”

“In four days?” Francis thought for a moment, then asked, “Is there some urgent assignment?” He knew nothing of the plans to escort Hades's Divine Mist.

“On the twenty-first, a shipment of Divine Mist bound for Hell Island will make a brief stop in the Star and Moon Joint Commanderies,” Time Attendant said.

“An escort assignment?” Francis looked slightly taken aback. “But… Deputy Director, don't regulations require Divine Mist shipments to be escorted by a proportionate number of troops and one or two members of the Ten Celestial Guards, depending on the total quantity being transported?”

Time Attendant said, “Correct. That's the arrangement this time as well. The accompanying troops and one Celestial Guard will provide protection.”

“Then the mission you mentioned is something else?”

Time Attendant's answer left Francis stunned. “No, it's this one. I'm seventy percent certain someone will try to seize this shipment of Divine Mist, so we have to go there to prevent it.”

“What?” Francis said. “Ability users? Or a resistance organization? Have the higher-ups ordered us to send combat personnel as reinforcements?”

Time Attendant turned over the sheet and went on writing furiously as he answered, “The higher-ups ignored my report. Said it was baseless speculation with no evidence.”

Francis couldn't understand it. “How could that happen? Don't they believe the information in your report, Deputy Director?”

“Now that I think about it, that may not be the reason.” Time Attendant's tone remained unchanged. “I probably made them angry…”

Something suddenly dawned on Francis. “Hmm… Did you insult people by name in a report again…?”

“Your logic is very strange. Why say ‘again’? That makes it sound as though I used to insult people in reports all the time. Written abuse does very little real damage, unless I can print the insulting material in bulk and successfully circulate it among the target's social circle. But this is a report, not a leaflet, so insulting people in a report is a waste of time too. I'm not the sort of person who does that.” He raced through this speech, took a breath, then continued, “The reason the higher-ups got angry is most likely that, after giving a very accurate assessment of the Celestial Guard assigned to this escort, I pointed out their poor choice of personnel and demanded that they immediately assign another Celestial Guard to join the escort and stop making the same mistake in future.”

The corner of Francis's mouth twitched involuntarily. He could already imagine what his deputy director had written in that report.

“Right… um… Deputy Director, may I ask which Celestial Guard is escorting the Divine Mist this time?”

“Marble Man.”

Francis nearly choked to death on his own saliva. “You mean Tosaka?”

“Yes, him,” Time Attendant replied.

“Tosaka is already an exceptionally powerful fighter among Fierce-rank ability users… He's no weaker than the other Celestial Guards.”

“Views like that are precisely why you're an assessor and I'm the deputy director.” Time Attendant really was that blunt. “If I disregard damage to the surroundings, I can kill him in about ten minutes. Fighting any of the other Celestial Guards would never be that simple.”

Francis didn't know what to say. He sorted through what he'd just heard. “Deputy Director, are you saying that in four days we're going to take part in the Divine Mist escort operation without authorization?”

“Yes.”

“Then… who else have you assigned besides me?”

“Myself,” Time Attendant replied.

Francis had expected that reply to be followed by a comma, then a few more names. But after waiting about ten seconds, he had to admit to himself, painfully, that it had indeed ended with a period.

He covered his face with one hand, looking utterly miserable. “Deputy Director, this is going to get us into trouble.”

“Why would I go if there wasn't going to be trouble?” As Time Attendant spoke, he filled the sheet he was working on, slipped it beneath the stack, and started on the next.

“I don't mean trouble with the Divine Mist. I mean trouble for us. Our own people might mistake us for the attackers and wound us, for example. Or… if anything happens to the Divine Mist, Tosaka could very well shift the blame onto us, saying we caused it by interfering.”

“If he dares do that, I'll spend ten minutes killing him, then write a report insulting people.” Time Attendant shot back so quickly, and with such conviction, that he clearly wasn't joking. He'd already thought out this extreme response.

Francis groaned inwardly. I really should have stayed on Hell Island a few more days.

Resigned, he let out a long sigh and tried to change the subject. “Deputy Director, I've been wondering ever since I came in. What are you writing…?”

Time Attendant took the sheet covered in writing from the bottom of the stack and handed it to Francis. “Practicing my penmanship, obviously. Why else would I use pen and paper? Typing is much faster.”

Francis took the sheet and found it was covered entirely in Chinese tongue twisters.

At that moment, he truly couldn't tell whether the man before him was unfathomable or simply a freak…

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