“Forgive my curiosity, General,” said Oslovski, “but what do you intend to accomplish?”
“The righting of a wrong, doctor,” he said. “That’s all you need to know. And that our work—our very lives—are dedicated to the best interests and the honor of this great nation.”
“And the well-being of its people?”
He smiled. “Of course, doctor. The two things are inseparable.”
“And what about the welfare of the world as a global society?”
“The world is not a global society, doctor. It’s a mish-mosh of societies and cultures. My concern—our concern is with the strength of the American nation. The other nations only concern us insofar as they are either beneficial or dangerous to U.S. interests.”
“I see.” Oslovski nodded. “May I guess what you hope to accomplish?”
“You may guess all you want. We will neither confirm nor deny.”
She nodded again. “Naturally. Two possibilities present themselves. One is that you wish to make sure the assassin isn’t, himself, assassinated so you can find out who hired him.”
General Caldwell’s smile didn’t falter. “A reasonable assumption, I suppose,” he said.
“The other possibility is that you intend to make certain he succeeds.”
None of the faces at the nether end of the table altered expression, but there was an eloquent flurry of exchanged glances.
Caldwell merely quirked an eyebrow. “What an interesting mind you have, Dr. Oslovski. I’m glad you’re not working for the other side.”
Oslovski smiled as if accepting that as a compliment. “What other side, General?”
“You do realize, of course,” Caldwell said, ignoring the question, “that you are contractually and ethically bound to bring this Project to a successful conclusion regardless of what we intend to do. So, you see, our intent is really irrelevant.”
“Of course.”
“And, of course, as scientists, you must observe a sort of code of nonintervention.”
That was more order than commentary and Oslovski bristled. If one more person cited the Scientific Code of NonIntervention, or preached objectivity at her, she vowed she’d send them back to the eruption of Krakatoa.
“So, we’ve seen that you can send a robot back to the target time and place. What else have you got for us?”
She showed them the bio-data on Q-Bert and Louis which included Louis’s recorded account of his experience. She took them to the O.R. next, explaining the function of each station.
“How soon?” asked Caldwell when they’d concluded the short tour and examined Toto and the Field Generator. “How soon can our operatives begin making time jumps?”
“We can make them part of a demonstration right now, if you’d like.”
The Chiefs were more than eager to see a Temporal Shift in action. They watched as each operative was sent to places and times that were easily verifiable. Both men handled the experience as if they were veteran time travelers and consumed healthy amounts of lunch immediately after.
oOo
“They’re ice men,” said Shiro.
Oslovski’s Team was reconnoitering in the O.R. after their own hasty lunch, while their clients privately debriefed.
“You’d think they were just taking a drive around the block.”
“Conditioning,” said Trevor. “Mental conditioning.”
“Mm-hm. And we have to get around it somehow.”
Oslovski blew steam from her coffee cup and grimaced. “This is where we try a little psychology. They’ve been wondering all morning why the Team shrink’s been included in. They’re about to find out.”
oOo
They rejoined the Joint Chiefs in the Level 3 conference room for a final meeting to discuss any questions generated during the day and to set a timetable for the next Phase of the Project. Could delicate equipment go through the Spectrum, the Chiefs wanted to know. Could weapons?
Toto was delicate equipment, Trevor told them, the video rig and medical array, likewise. “For that matter,” he added, “a human being is delicate equipment. As for weapons . . .” He wanted to claim some magical Omniscient Guardian of the Time Spectrum caused all weapons to disintegrate on transit, but couldn’t. “There’s no reason why they shouldn’t be fine.”
“I’m satisfied,” said General Caldwell when the question-and-answer session had wound down into nodding and note taking.
Oslovski raised her eyebrows. “General, you’re overlooking a very important factor in all of this.”
“Oh? And what might that be, doctor?”
“I think Dr. Keller is more qualified than I am to speak to that subject. Doctor, would you answer the General’s question?”
Vance nodded, tapping a pen lightly on the tabletop. “The psychological ramifications of time travel are quite complex.”
“For example?”
“Well, General, you’re undertaking to change history. Have you considered how many events might hinge on the one you propose to change?”
“It has been considered.”
“Then you are all prepared to face the changes in your personal lives that may result from your . . .” He’d been going to say “meddling,” but smiled and finished, “editing of history?”
“We’re counting on it,” said Caldwell, and the others nodded.
Dr. Keller spread his hands, palms up, on the table. “I just wanted to be sure you were properly prepared. It could be quite a shock for your operatives to return and discover they’ve edited a loved one out of existence.”
“What?”
They were all staring at him as if he’d just said “there’s a bomb under this table.” Oslovski fought the urge to grin.
“Gentlemen,” she said, “you must be prepared for any eventuality. You yourselves could be ‘edited’ out of existence by a change in history.”
“My God, how can anyone be prepared for that?” The reserved, soft-spoken Naval Admiral Krenshaw was visibly stunned.
Vance Keller nodded sympathetically. “I know it’s a terrifying prospect—to suddenly find your entire life rewritten—wives married to someone else, children never born.
And, of course, the potential for guilt could be immense—the realization that you did it to yourselves.”
Caldwell looked like he’d just swallowed a sour pill.
“And then,” added Oslovski, “there is the possibility that your operatives could be stranded in the past.”
“I thought you said the technology was reliable,” said Caldwell sharply.
“Oh, it is. But it’s entirely possible that with a change in history, the technology might never be developed.”
“That’s damn pretzel logic! If the technology is never developed then how could anyone go back in time to-to get trapped?”
“The technology is reliable,” said Oslovski. “But the concepts behind it are sometimes dimly understood.”
Caldwell’s jaw was ticking. “Just how do you propose we prepare for these eventualities?”
Oslovski met his chilly gaze with an equal amount of frost. “That’s what we have a psychologist on staff for, General. I would recommend that your operatives spend some time with him during their orientation.”
“Orientation?”
“We’ll need to do a complete medical work-up on anyone who’s going to be sent that far back through the Spectrum and stay for any length of time,” said Trevor. “We have to know the normal physiology so any abnormalities can be spotted.”
Caldwell nodded, once. “When do you want them?”
“Right now. Barring unforeseen difficulties,” said Oslovski, “we can be ready to send one of your men back to the target in a week, maybe two.”
Caldwell frowned, puckering his mouth. “You’re sure the field can’t be expanded to take both men through at once?”
“That could lead to a dangerous instability in the Field. We might attempt to send two subjects through in single file, as it were. But unt
il we’ve successfully retrieved two nonhuman subjects, we can’t try a double passage with your men.”
Caldwell looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t. He took his Joint Chiefs and departed for Washington D.C., leaving Ferris and Hilyard in the capable hands of Oslovski and Keller.
oOo
Vance began “preventive therapy” sessions with his two subjects almost immediately. They discussed the ramifications of editing history in great detail. He encouraged them to talk about their fears. Then he worked hard at exploiting them—something that rubbed completely against his grain.
“Dammit, Mags, I can’t help but feel like a traitor to my calling. I’m supposed to help people overcome their fears and anxieties, not feed them.” Vance ran a hand roughly through his curly, black hair and grimaced.
“Sometimes fear is healthy, Vance. You know that. It keeps us from doing stupid, dangerous things like screw with history. People should be afraid to do that shouldn’t they? Shouldn’t they be afraid or ashamed to commit murder?”
He looked up at her out of the corner of his eye. “Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds almost noble. I guess I just need to be sure that it really is. That we’re not just rationalizing. Because using psychology that way rubs me raw.”
Magda folded her arms across her chest and studied his face. “Is it that bad? Do you want to opt out?”
He threw up his hands in exasperation. “No, it’s not that bad, dammit, but this little voice in my head keeps telling me it should be. Frankly, knowing what I know, it’s hard to be objective. Hell, it’s impossible to be objective. Hilyard gives me the creeps and Ferris has the most advanced case of tunnel vision I’ve ever seen when it comes to the activities of the military. To hear him talk, you’d think the Joint Chiefs should be canonized—or at least knighted. And Hilyard—” He shook his head. “I got him talking about war and how he felt about it. He said he thought dropping the bomb on Hiroshima was beneficial.”
Magda shrugged. “A lot of people feel we wouldn’t have achieved peace without having stood face to face with that horror first. You have to admit, it made the whole world stop in its tracks and realize war was a no-op.”
“He meant it was beneficial because it let the other nations know who was boss. It established the U.S. as a Super Power—’separated the men from the boys,’ as he put it.”
“Oh … so, how are they doing with the program?”
Vance’s dark face brightened a little. “Pretty well, actually. Hilyard is just oozing with half-healed post-adolescent wounds and a lot of resentment against his superiors. He doesn’t like feeling expendable, and he fears that’s just what he is. Ferris is just a conscientious G.I. trying to do what he feels is his patriotic duty.”
“Assassination?”
Vance shrugged. “I’ve had them both under hypnosis. Ferris seems to take to post-hypnotic suggestion just fine, but Hilyard’s a little resistant. Oh, there’s one thing I might be able to use against him, though.” He made a face. “Dear God, did I just say that?”
Magda threw a paper clip at him. “Snap out of it, Doc.”
“Anyway, he expressed belief in reincarnation and past life regression. I think there are some possibilities in that direction.”
Magda nodded, looking thoughtful. “Vance, what’s your assessment of the mental and emotional health of these two men?”
“That’s a tough one. Judging from what they’re planning to do . . .” He shook his head. “I’d say we were looking at two pretty sick little puppies. Oh, mentally, I’d have to give them a clean bill of health—based solely on the standard-issue tests. But faced with this . . . mission of theirs, they’ve got to be buying their day-to-day sanity at the expense of their emotional stability.”
Magda got up and moved to face him, locking her fingers at the back of his neck. “While you’re busy feeling guilty about brainwashing them so they don’t have to go through with their mission, ask yourself what would happen to them, mentally and emotionally, if they did go through with it. Hilyard is right, Vance. As far as Caldwell is concerned, they are expendable.”
oOo
During the week and a half prior to their Time Shift, Hilyard and Ferris each established their own unique behavior patterns. Colonel Ferris spent most of his free time alone or, almost perversely, it seemed, in Vance Keller’s company. He rarely interacted with any of the other team members. Hilyard, on the other hand, elected to shadow different members of Oslovki’s Team, insatiably asking questions about the Temporal Spectrum and its attendant technology.
“It’s almost as if he doesn’t believe it,” said Trevor, “and he’s asking all these questions trying to catch us out.”
Shiro nodded. “I know just what you mean. You know, he actually seems to understand what we tell him. It’s eerie. I feel like he’s watching us all the time. Listening to everything we say and taking notes.”
“He is taking notes,” averred Louis. “Every time I turn around, he’s talking to that handcomp. I’d love to get my hands on that thing to hear what he’s been saying about us behind our backs.”
“Let’s get serious, folks,” said Oslovski from the head of the table. “He’s very likely keeping reports for Caldwell. Let’s just make sure he doesn’t see or hear anything compromising. Now, tomorrow’s the big day. We’ll have one more procedural drill tonight. Are there any issues we need to discuss . . . Judy?”
“I’m a little concerned about the combined effects of Ephkal-A and the tranq they’ll receive. The tranquilizer will inevitably create a condition that the Ephkal-A will counteract. I’m wondering if we shouldn’t delay the infusion of Ephkal-A until after the Shift. That way they won’t be subjected to an endorphin double-whammy.”
Oslovski nodded. “A valid concern. Trev? What’s your opinion?”
“I can see a potential for metabolic confusion. There’ll be a natural tendency toward rapid pulse and increased adrenal activity. The tranq will damp that and it will depress some neural functions, which Ephkal-A will then try to elevate. Frankly, that could be to our advantage.”
Judy Walsh flushed angrily. “What about their advantage? Or don’t we care if we drive them into a seizure?”
“Of course we care, Judy,” said Trevor. “I just don’t see a clear danger. Q-Bert didn’t have any problem with the compounds.”
“Q-Bert’s a dog, not a man. His heart didn’t pound the way theirs did. His nervous system didn’t go into overdrive. They may seem like icemen, but they’re not. I’m afraid of what the combination of drugs and adrenalin might do.”
“I think Judy has a valid concern,” said Oslovski. “Vance, is there any way they can receive the Ephkal-A at your end?”
“I don’t see why not. We’ll have to get the timing right—wait until their attention is engaged elsewhere—but sure.”
“All right. Trev, will you oversee that?”
He nodded, making a note on his handcomp. “Got it.”
Oslovski glanced around the table again. “More issues?”
Vance raised a hand. “I’ve got a couple. Which do you want first, the good issue or the bad issue?”
“Oh, please. Let’s hear the good one first.”
“Well, as you no doubt noticed, Bert Ferris has been stuck to me all week. He’s a nice guy, but sort of a bundle of contradictions. He’s a very . . . religious man, I guess you’d say. Very active in his church. The doctrines of his particular sect include the idea that world peace is something that won’t or can’t or shouldn’t come until the literal and physical return of Christ. The current peace is, ipso facto, false and evil. He more or less told me that he considers it his Christian duty to ‘undo the Devil’s peace,’ as he put it, in any way he could.”
There was a moment of complete silence at the table. Judy Walsh’s face was a deep red and Vahid’s lips moved in a silent invocation.
“The good news is, that this predisposition to—um—”
“Crusader mentality?”
offered Trevor acerbically.
“Trevor, please,” Oslovski cautioned him.
“Sorry. I just don’t understand that mind set. If God hadn’t wanted peace on earth, how the hell could we have achieved it? Look at all the obstacles that had to be overcome. If the history of the last seventy-five years wasn’t some sort of Divine miracle—”
Oslovski raised a hand to stop him. “No one here is arguing with you, Trev. But our understanding of Ferris’s mind set isn’t germane. What is germane is that that mind set might be an advantage to our crusade.”
Trevor mumbled something under his breath.
“As I was saying,” Vance continued, “Colonel Ferris has a predisposition, even a deep-seated drive, to correct what he sees as a cosmic evil. He’s a man with a mission—to see this false peace brought to an end. Now, I suspect that, on some level, he is very likely aware of the contradictions in that ideology. On another level, there’s every indication that because of that ideology, this many years of peace we’ve enjoyed pose an extreme test to his faith. The bottom line, if I may be so crass, is that he’ll want to believe he’s accomplished that mission. He’s already proved to take post-hypnotic suggestion very readily.”
“Good,” said Oslovski. “So, what’s the bad issue?”
“The bad issue is that both of these guys are thoroughly terrified by the idea that they might ‘erase’ someone as a by-product of their mission. I think Ferris’s sectarian indoctrination will override that fear, but I’m not so sure about Hilyard. He’s a cold-blooded S.O.B., but he’s got a mom, a dad, two younger brothers, and a younger sister in Omaha, Nebraska. Even if he doesn’t erase them, in any nuclear engagement that would be one of the first places to go up in flames—it’s within spittin’ distance of SAC Headquarters. He has what I’d call a very strong subconscious imperative not to believe that his mission was a success.”
Oslovski’s brow knit. “Has be been resistant to hypnosis?”
“Moreso than Ferris. It’s not insurmountable. I just wanted to warn you.”
“Consider us warned. Anyone else?” When no one answered, Oslovski started to dismiss the meeting. “In that case we’ll—”
All the Colors of Time Page 4