Time Salvager by Wesley Chu

question stumbled out of him. “What happens after we’ve run out?”
    “We salvage more, of course.”
    “No, I mean out of sources to salvage.” He leaned back and furrowed his brow. “During my tenure, I’ve retrieved over fifteen Titan sources, and maybe a hundred or so lesser cores, converters, and generators. If I remember my studies at the Academy correctly, less than a thousand Titan-powered facilities and ships were ever produced, with only half of them salvageable within the strictures of the Time Laws.
    “We’ve probably already salvaged a third, maybe half of those salvageable sources. We don’t have the technology to build anything powerful enough to power entire moon colonies anymore, not since the last of the Technology Isolationists were wiped out. So what happens after we’re out of history to plunder? What does humanity do next?”
    “That’s not really your concern, James,” Levin said. “The corporations and the governments will eventually develop new technologies or relearn what was lost.”
    “The corporations,” James scoffed. “All they care about is profit and control. Those shortsighted bastards don’t care about the future.”
    “You’re a cynic, James,” Levin said. “Always have been. All of us have our roles to play to prevent our extinction. ChronoCom’s is to buy humanity time by mining the past.”
    James looked out the window outside Central. “When’s the last time you walked outside?” he asked, his voice low. “Among the wretched people. Breathed the unfiltered air. Lived in the squalor. We’re losing.”
    Levin followed his gaze out the window, and for a few moments, the two stared in silence as the bristling gray winds swirled around the decaying city. Then he shook his head, as if snapping out of a trance, and looked back at James. “We’re getting off track. How are you sleeping?”
    “Like a baby,” James lied.
    “What about your lag sickness? Are you up to date on the miasma regimen?” Levin looked at the vid. “Says here you’re behind by two months.”
    James shrugged. “Been busy keeping humanity’s lights on. I’ll do it when I get around to it.”
    For another thirty minutes, Levin peppered him with questions about his health and his feelings, asking about everything ranging from throwing up after jumps to his dreams to his drinking habits to when he last bedded a woman. He actually varied it a little bit from the previous time James was there, though not by much.
    Finally, a visibly frustrated Levin stood up. “You’ve given me the exact same answers for three audits in a row, so let’s cut to the chase.” He walked around his desk. “Don’t think I don’t see the shakes in your hands. I will call you in after every job until I get straight answers from you. Unfortunately, you’re too senior for me to slap you back to running wood recoveries in the seventeenth century, or I would. Now listen closely: next time you get back from a job, you report straight to your handler before you hit the bottle. Understand?”
    “Or?” James shrugged.
    Levin slammed his fist on the desk. “I’m getting tired of your insubordination,” he said, rising to his feet. “I control your fate in ChronoCom. I can keep you here forever, regardless of your credit.”
    “I’ve made myself clear on where I stand with your idle threats,” James said, standing up as well.
    The two glared at each other for several tense moments. Finally, Levin turned his back to him. “I don’t think you’re stable, but you put on a good act and you get results. ChronoCom doesn’t have enough high-tiers to bust you back, but I’m watching you. You slip once and I’ll happily Landon you if I get the chance. Now, get out of here and send for Thompson to come in next.”
    James smirked and started toward the door. “Good seeing you again. Glad we had this chat.”
    “And get that miasma regimen administered right after this meeting. You aren’t green-lit until the