Short Story Teaser: "Code H"

From time to time I've offered up samples of my creative output, as we author chappies are wont to do. Here's another. Leave me a note if you'd like me to send you the whole thing. (This is still something of a draft, not necessarily the final version.)

Code H

"God damn it," said Mahoney, slamming down her coffee cup. Drips slopped over onto her desk. "Hitler's dead again."

"What's that, three this kilochron?" asked Ibekwe across the low cubicle wall.

"Four." Mahoney wiped up coffee with the back of her tie. She hated the tie. There were good things about not having to walk a temporal beat. Wearing the clothes wasn't one of them.

Ling's head popped up from Robbery, halfway across the squad room. "When is it this time?" he called.

"July '31. Why, what do you care?"

"Office pool."

"Great," said Mahoney, standing. "If you win, how about you fill out the fucking DHP-370s?"

#

Lieutenant Xox, a.k.a. the Loot, rolled its eyes. It had three of them. Mahoney thought this gave it an unfair advantage. Insofar as a creature that looked like a seven-foot-tall cerulean-scaled lizard could look jaundiced, it looked jaundiced.

"Another code H?" it said. "Sonofabitch. What the hell is it with this precinct, anyway?"

"It's the goddamn writers," said Mahoney. "You got sci-fi writers when you come from?"

"Not any more," said Xox, giving her a toothy grin. It had an unfair advantage in that department as well.

"Well, that shit's practically a cottage industry around here. Means every asshole who gets ahold of a chronomobile, the first thing they think is 'Hey, I'm gonna go kill Hitler.'"

Xox shrugged. "Well, it keeps us in business, I guess. When was it, by the way?"

"July 1931. Don't tell me you're in the pool too."

"Sure, but I had January '28. Anyway, that's not why I called you in. You're gonna have a ride-along on this one."

Mahoney swore fluently in twenty-third century Sparabic. It was a good language for swearing. The Loot waited, looking occasionally out the window, which was in the 1970s. For some reason Xox really liked the 1970s.

Mahoney realized she was repeating herself. She stopped.

"Sorry, Sparks," said Xox, not sounding sorry. "This came all the way from the Castle. It's the new curriculum. They want to get the cadets out walking the timestreams, show 'em how it's done. Hell, you should be all for that."

"I am, just not with me."

"I'll tell the commissioner next time we have tea. I'm sure she'll be real sympathetic. 'Til then, you get to experience the joy and camaraderie of mentoring." It turned two of its eyes towards her midsection. "Maybe you can trade grooming tips. Buddha's balls, Mahoney, it looks like you washed your tie in coffee. And get your DHP-370s in on time, for once."