The Bureau of Time by Brett Michael Orr Page A

training, and a single hour of ‘free time’ before the 10pm curfew and lights-out around the base.
    During one of her free periods, Cassie asked Natalie for some stationary, and sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed while the other women talked amongst themselves. She was an outsider, of course, the youngest by at least eight years.
    She was dogged by suspicious glances and more than a few whispers behind her back – everyone knew she was a Timewalker, knew that she was different. Not everyone held Timewalkers in the same regard as Director Anderson. She hadn’t even seen the mysterious leader of the Bureau since he’d visited her in the hospital.
    Cassie twirled the pen around her fingers, staring hard at the blank piece of paper. She remembered Ryan’s words to her: “You can’t tell them where you are, just that you’re okay, and the government is looking after you.”
    There was so much she wanted to tell her parents. I’m alive, I’m at a secret agency, I can manipulate time, I’m alone, I’m afraid. In the end, she didn’t know how to phrase it, or even if the Bureau would allow her to send it.
    There was a particularly raucous burst of laughter at some private joke among the women. She sent a quick glance in their direction, but nobody was paying her any attention. She started writing, cringing at her own messy handwriting:
    Mom, Dad,
    I don’t know what they’ve told you, if anyone’s come to talk with you. I’m okay, don’t worry about me. The government is taking care of me, they’re training me in a program. I can’t say much more.
    I’ll try to write when I can. I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I love you both, miss you a lot.
    Love,
    Cassie
    She put the pen down, teardrops smearing the ink. She dried her eyes, then the page, and folded it into a square. It was still before curfew, so Cassie hopped off the bed and left the dorm, padding barefoot down the hall toward Sector 7, where the agents had their offices. The base’s layout still confused her – the corridors twisted and sprawled through the hills, sometimes sloping down, then up again.
    She followed the overhead signs, nodding once at a passing duty officer.
    “Thirty minutes to curfew, Miss,” the officer drawled, tapping his watch.
    “I won’t take long,” she promised him. She turned a corner, her Affinity buzzing – she detected a bright Temporal signature ahead. Shaun? She was approaching Natalie’s office when she heard voices coming from the open door. Warm yellow light flooded out into the white hallway.
    She hesitated, about to turn back when she heard a distinctive voice: Amita’s.
    “…hasn’t been performing at all,” Amita was saying, her voice flat. “Her Temporal training has been a complete disaster.”
    “That’s because you insist on cold testing, ” a deep, male voice said. She didn’t recognize it. Cassie hesitated, then pressed herself flat against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest.
    “And what would you have me do, General?” Amita asked. General? General Lehmann – the head of Temporal Operations itself. She remembered hearing his name in one of the orientation classes. Lehmann authorized all of the missions for the Bureau’s operators.
    “Put her in the field,” Lehmann drawled. “I saw the debrief from Eaglepoint. That kind of Temporal Spike? She clearly used her powers that night. She was under immense pressure, and we need to replicate that.”
    “What about the psych evaluation?” Amita countered. “The girl is emotionally unstable, and not ready to join Clockwork.”
    Emotionally unstable. A hot wave of anger washed through her, and suddenly she wanted to storm into the room – but stopped when she heard another familiar voice.
    “It’s far too risky,” Shaun Briars said. That explains the signature I felt. “Ryan and I have been training her alongside Drill Sergeant Mathers. She can’t fire a gun, and Amita’s right – Cassie’s abilities are