Jolting a Killer. Adult. Time travel can be complex. (standard:mystery, 6484 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jun 23 2020	Views/Reads: 1486/1069	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
In a future world, police must track down criminals, despite new factors including teleportation and time augmenting drugs.

"Lieutenant Craft."  Andrews, the desk sergeant of the 1754th Precinct,
stops me as I enter the station.  "Captain Transki wants to see you, at 
your convenience."  He grins, both of us knowing the term means 
immediately. 

"Sure, Andy,” I reply.  Not that I don't have enough on my plate
already.  The Adamoski killing has his ire up, and I'm spinning my 
wheels on it, getting nowhere.  I sign in at the desk, sigh, and walk 
across a large foyer.  The room is as crowded as a teleportation 
terminal, citizens waiting for their complaints to be heard fill a 
half-dozen wooden benches on one side of the room.  Handcuffed 
prisoners crowd a metal cage at the other extreme.  Most of the latter 
are waiting their turn in court. 

There are two public trans-booths in a corner, one teleporting in and
the other out.  The booths are guarded and set to reject any explosives 
or firearms.  Police and judges have their own booths behind closed 
doors, fully able to admit stun-guns and other, more lethal, weapons. 

I'm currently in charge of a task force set up to catch an especially
elusive killer of politicians.  It's a task that can make or, more 
likely, break my career. 

On the way to my captain's office, I stop briefly at a restroom and
close myself into a booth.  Constantly wary of cameras, I unthinkingly 
study the ceiling, especially at the point where it joins the back 
wall. 

Satisfied, I pull a small flask from a pocket.  Feeling safe, I raise it
to eager nostrils and snort a bolt of jolt, an illegal drug. 

In seconds, my senses are heightened, the day clear and sunny as a
feeling of confidence jolts brain activity into high gear.  Ready, I 
leave and strut to the captain's office, consciously willing myself to 
slow down to a normal level. 

Now, I'm not the only cop to use the stuff -- most of us do on occasion
-- and its use is basically ignored by the brass. 

With many of our targets often enhanced to ten times normal speed and
that much quicker on the trigger, that jolted reflex can mean the 
difference between life and death.  However, the majority of us don't 
take the drug unless or until it is necessary. I prefer the feeling and 
tell myself I'm ready at all times. 

I find Captain Transki in his office, a nice-looking woman sitting
across from him.  She wears a business suit of a formal green t-shirt 
with yellow spangles and red shorts, legs crossed. 

"You wanted to see me, chief?  I've got all my people out questioning
informants.  He wasn't at that Elm Street address.  I'll have the 
report by--" 

"I know, Jerry.  I know.  Thompson told me this morning.  I want to talk
to you about something else.  This is Trudi Jennings." 

"Oh.  Guess so, chief.  What about?" 

"Trudi, here, is from our Central Investigation Department."  The woman
nods, a serious look on a pretty face.  One hand nervously sweeps long 
red hair out of her eyes.  "She's to stick to you like glue for the 
next week or so." 

"Why?  I'm busy as hell, captain, and don't have time to act as a
guide." 

"Trudi, Captain Jennings, is a trained and experienced police officer,
Jerry.  She can hold up her end.  She came up through the ranks, most 
of her time undercover with the Romanian mob." 

Surprised, I almost stumbled, one shoulder going to the wall to steady
himself.  "So she's taking over the task force?  Am I doing that bad a 
job, or does it call for a captain now?" 

"Neither, Jerry.  You're still in charge, though you're free to consult


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