They shook their heads.
‘Then there are the security teams.’ He sighed. ‘You’ve all – for one reason or another – already come to the attention of our security team. I don’t know if any of you find the idea of poacher turned gamekeeper particularly attractive, but security is one of your options.
‘Then there’s Recruitment and Training. They usually prefer articulate and good-looking people who can be a positive image for the Time Police, but they’re fairly desperate at the moment so they’d probably be prepared to consider you three. The job also includes stints downstairs on Reception, a lot of which is dealing with idiots who’ve made a complete dog’s breakfast of their lives and think they’ll join the Time Police and lie low for a bit until everything blows over.’
He was very careful not to look at Jane as he said this, wondering if she was aware the Time Police always carried out very thorough background checks. Did she really think they were ignorant of the circumstances that had led her to enlist?
‘Next on the list is the section dealing with Big Business and Organised Crime. BeeBOC. Probably the most interesting field to work in. Lots of variety. Obviously, everyone wants that one but be aware there are challenges. Organised crime is considerably more organised than national governments. Better funded, too. The threat to the future is Temporal Tourism and big business attempting to loot the past. It’ll all come at you thick and fast in that section.’
And Lt Grint was headed there, too, although that was common knowledge now. Parrish, in particular, would have to think very hard about whether to choose BeeBOC.
‘Moving on – the Religious Nutters section.’ He sighed. ‘I hardly know where to begin with this one. You’ll get people who can’t believe the things their religion has done in the past and want to put it right. They mean well but – well, you can imagine.
‘Then there are those convinced theirs is the only true religion and their mission is to bring the light and compassion of that religion to those who don’t realise how unfortunate they are. Conversion techniques generally include every weapon you care to name from pointy sticks upwards. It’s an unpopular section staffed mostly by atheists. There are moral choices involved and not everyone is comfortable with that. But, as I say, it’s your decision.’
He manipulated the data stack again.
‘Ah – speaking of nutters, here’s Hitler’s Little Helpers. Unfortunately for us here in the Time Police, the world is full of people who think they can save millions of lives by offing Hitler. That they’re subsequently ending even more millions of lives never seems to occur to them. You’d be dealing with people whose mental states range from the tearfully fragile to the screamingly insane. And that’s just your colleagues. Be aware.’
He rotated the stack again. ‘What’s next? Ah yes – Records and Information.’ He looked up. ‘Supposedly the soft option for those who can’t hack things in the real world.’
Again, he didn’t look at Jane.
‘They’re wrong. This is vital work. You’ll need an ordered mind, a good memory and the ability to transmit a lot of data fast. And accurately. Where do you think the info for each mission comes from, sometimes at very short notice? Who flashes the relevant facts to your scratchpads before you even know you need them? You never stop to think about it, do you, which just shows what a good job they must be doing.
‘The rest – MedCen, IT and so on – have no vacancies at the moment.’ He began to shut down the data stack.
‘What about working with the Time Map?’ asked Luke.
‘Again, technical abilities are required. Or, of course, for the lucky few – a natural aptitude is enough.’
Jane looked across at Matthew, who stared straight ahead.
‘Those are your options, people. I’ve flashed full info packs and the appropriate D12s to your scratchpads. Completed forms to be returned to me within seven days. I advise you all to think carefully. And include second and third choices as well because not everyone gets what they want.’
‘So we’re able to choose our future section?’ asked Luke.
‘No. You apply. The section head will survey your form, attempt to reconcile the information there to what they already know about you, and approve or disapprove accordingly. If you don’t get what you want, you get passed down the line until someone accepts you.’
‘What if . . . ?’ said Jane nervously, almost unable to put such a humiliating future into words lest it happen to her. ‘What if no one wants . . . ?’
‘It’s never happened yet,’ said Ellis reassuringly. ‘Most people get their first choice. And you can transfer out after six months if you’re really unhappy. Although that doesn’t make you popular, so you usually end up even more unhappy.’
He perched on the edge of his desk. ‘It is my duty to make you aware of the final option. As trainees, you can leave at any point during your training. For free. This offer extends until midnight on your last day of training. After that, you belong to the Time Police, body and soul – and trust me, we will extract our pound of flesh.’
Silence.
‘Well, don’t just sit there. Dismissed.’
10
Imogen Farnborough was interviewed four times in all. The first was a preliminary – to establish what she could know and to establish the best interview technique for her personality type. The second drilled down to dates, names and places, and began to build up a structure for the Time Police to work with. The third dealt with every snippet of information in the minutest detail. Line by line. The fourth – the toughest – tested every fact to destruction. Imogen’s destruction.
By the time they’d finished with her, she was tearful and exhausted. She was then permitted one short interview with her mother. From the Time Police point of view, nothing useful emerged from that exchange.
‘So many tears,’ remarked one officer. ‘It’s a miracle neither of them went rusty.’
All reports were forwarded directly to Commander Hay, who made herself a coffee and settled down to read.
The main fact leaping off the page was that Imogen, either deliberately or otherwise, knew hardly anything about Temporal Tourism. No, she never heard the name of the organisation that had offered her the opportunity to time travel. No, she had no idea who ran it. Despite careful questioning, security had been unable to decide whether she’d deliberately been kept in the dark or was simply too self-obsessed to absorb anything that didn’t relate directly to herself. If asked, they’d be inclined to say the latter. Stripped of Imogen’s complaints, self-pity and indiscriminate recrimination, the story ran thusly:
Imogen had been sitting in a bar with Eric. No, she couldn’t remember the name. She’d been complaining about something – no, she couldn’t remember what – when a friend of Eric’s had said did she fancy trying something different? There were these people, he said, and they can take you to some pretty weird places. It was the latest thing. Everyone was doing it. Yes, all right, it was time travel and for God’s sake, don’t tell anyone and yes, it was the teeniest bit illegal but that was only to stop people doing it. This friend had it on very good authority that the law was going to be relaxed any day now. Of course, once that happened the whole world would be at it, but this was a chance for them to be in ahead of the crowd.