The Time Travel Directorate Read Online Free PDF

individual.
    He must trust him to grant so much access.
    “I heard about how the inspectors were using old technology but never realized just how old,” Vin said. “I know the travel industry uses portals, though more expensive, they reduce exposure to free radicals. Or so the advertisements say.”
    “If you need to send a message, type it in here,” Chief Smiley said, ignoring Vin’s little speech and gesturing to the reading pane. “It gets forwarded to mission support. In this case, since no one else is here, it will go to me.”
    “Are you in charge of all mission support as well?” Vin asked.
    Chief Smiley looked at him queerly before Vin wondered if he had inadvertently offended him. After several charged seconds, Chief Smiley gave himself a shake.
    “I’m taking on the lowest of responsibilities in seeing to your deployment, but the budget deadlock can’t last forever, can it?”
    “No, ” Vin responded succinctly, wondering why he had seemed so momentarily flustered.
    “Ok, ready ?”
    “Where am I . . . ” in the course of asking the question, Chief Smiley threw the web around Vin—which whipped into place, covering him from head to toe.
    “Less than five percent have an allergic reaction to time travel, resulting in cardiac arrest and death, let us hope you are not in that percentile.”
    Leaning forward, Chief Smiley hit the red button on the web’s reading pane. Vin gasped, his muscles beginning to cramp as the blue rivulets of the web glowed with energy around his feet. He watched in horror as the current traveled up his body. Vin wanted to scream, but his entire body seemed paralyzed. Fear engulfing him, he looked over to Chief Smiley, who was now standing next to the wall with his hand on a lever.
    Looking down in horror, Vin identified the outlines of what appeared to be a trap door. He could hear the voice of Chief Smiley echo in the room as the energy swallowed his neck and head.
    “I n order for the web to work, the user must have the sensation of falling. Something to do with the brain’s electrical . . . ”
    Chief Smiley pulled the lever, and Vin Damato dropped through the floor.

    Vin drew a full breath, his head no longer spinning. Feeling the texture of grass below him, he opened his eyes, slowly regaining his composure.
    Pulling the web from him, he studied his surroundings.
    The mountainous landscape could belong to any number of locations—from Colorado to Switzerland. The wind whipped around Vin’s confused form as he identified a wooden shack several yards away. Tucking the web into the back of his pants, Vin started towards it, before hearing the sound of movement directly behind him.
    W hirling around, Vin watched as a robed figure walked towards him. His shiny bald head and prayer necklace implied his vocation. It was a monk.
    Vin blinked, wondering if he was dreaming. The monk stopped before him, studying Vin intently.
    Vin pondered the obscurity of the scene before him, belatedly realizing he must be in ancient China—the man before him a Shaolin monk.
    “ I’m here for training,” Vin said, feeling a mixture of altitude and anxiety suppress his breathing.
    He could feel the blood rushing through his ears—so loud he assumed the monk could hear as well.
    Without answering, the monk gestured past him towards the shack. Vin followed, wondering if Chief Smiley made a mistake. He expected a military training center, replete with weapons, obstacle courses, rock walls—that sort of thing. There was nothing here save this pathetic shack and the relentless mountain wind.
    A s Vin followed the monk, they cleared a sloping incline, entering a courtyard strewn with odd-looking implements. The monk stopped before one of these.
    The large wooden cross stood about eye level. Two large jugs were placed on either side—each brimming with water. Hanging on the arms of the cross were two jugs. The monk gestured towards the apparatus, speaking in broken English.
    “Hang from