"Shakespeare," Delaney said, identifying the quotation. "Prince Hamlet to Horatio."
Steiger smiled, "No, actually it was Mooney Dravott."
"Who?"
"Mooney Dravott," Steiger said. "He was a fine old Elizabethan drunk. Shakespeare used him as the model for Falstaff. Mooney would get ripped and say the most amazing things. Bill wrote them down and used them in his plays."
"Bill?" said Delaney. "You knew Shakespeare?"
"Oh, yeah," said Steiger. "Nice fella. I met him while I was gathering intelligence on the Temporal Underground in the late 16th century. He would have been amused to know how well his work came to be regarded and how long it has survived. He didn't take it all that seriously himself. To him, it was just a living, something he did for enjoyment and to make money. He used to say, 'It beats acting.' He did a lot of his writing in pubs, soliciting reactions and taking suggestions from just about anybody. He wrote for the people, so he had a high regard for their opinion. Much of what he wrote was taken from history, but he was more interested in the story for its own sake than in historical accuracy, which is one of the reasons I always suspect history as handed down to us by storytellers."
"Such as Apollonius of Rhodes, you mean," said Andre.
"Exactly."
"I keep thinking about the mission programming," said Delaney. "I've seen a lot of strange things, but if it wasn't for the centaur, I wouldn't have bought any of it."
"I'm not sure that's not the right approach," said Steiger. "Just because we caught a centaur who-or is it which? — corroborated some of the details of an ancient fable doesn't necessarily mean it's all true. If Apollonius really was picking up on psychic impressions of this place, how much of what he wrote can be considered reliable information and how much the result of a primitive mind attempting to make sense of science and technology beyond its grasp?"
Delaney frowned. "What are you saying?"
"Well, I've been trying to think of rational explanations for what seem to be irrational or supernatural elements in the story," said Steiger. "Maybe their technological development here is completely at variance with what we would expect at the same period in our timeline. But that's only one possible explanation. We're at war with the congruent universe. Intelligence is important to each side. It would be in their best interests to supply us with disinformation. Maybe we're actually dealing with a universe in which certain physical laws are different from those in our own timeline. On the other hand, suppose the centaur was actually created by genetic engineers in the future of this universe. This whole thing could be a setup."
"Interesting idea," said Andre, "but it doesn't seem very likely."
"Why not?"
"All right, let's assume that was what happened," Andre said. "They created a centaur in their genetic labs, programmed it with disinformation about this timeline and sent it through the confluence to draw us here. For one thing, if that were the case, they could have taken us by now. And for another, it would require genetic engineering capabilities far in advance of our own."
"And that's not impossible," said Steiger. "There's also the possibility that they could have taken us, only taking us this early in the game didn't fit in with their plans."
"Okay, I'll grant you that," Andre said. "But then it still doesn't add up, because if the centaur had been programmed, it would have shown up in the psych team's debriefing session."
"Maybe not," said Steiger. "What if they're better at psychological conditioning than we are? Can we make a centaur? There's still another possibility to consider. If this is some sort of setup and they really planned the operation carefully, they could have had people on the inside, on our interrogation team."
Delaney whistled. "Boy, that's really getting paranoid!"
"Sound too incredible to you?" said Steiger. "Don't forget, they managed to infiltrate Archives Section before and alter some of our records. There's every reason to suspect they could have managed to infiltrate us elsewhere. It sounds a lot more believable to me than the idea of gods and monsters being real."
"Is that any less believable than my having been born in the 12th century?" said Andre, playing devil's advocate. "The first time I saw a suit of armor made from nysteel, I thought it was magic. The first time I saw someone make a temporal transition, I thought he was a sorcerer appearing out of thin air. Well, wasn't he, in a sense? Where does technology stop and magic begin? Isn't it just a matter of perspective?"
"I suppose it all depends on whether an immortal is actually a god or someone who's achieved the ultimate in life extension," Steiger said.
"But what exactly is a god?" said Andre. "Whose definition are we using?"
Steiger smiled, "Why don't we wait until we meet one? Then we can go right to the source."
They reached the river shortly before dark without encountering anyone, mortal or immortal. The crossing did not prove difficult to find; it was almost exactly where Major Curtis had indicated it on his hastily drawn map. The river flowed swiftly and the water came up to their thighs, so it was necessary for them to move slowly and carry their weapons high as they waded across. They made camp not far from the riverbank. The night was warm and they decided to sleep under the stars, taking turns standing watch. It felt strange hearing the familiar sounds of crickets and nightbirds, seeing familiar constellations and knowing they were in another universe.
As their fire died down, Steiger reached into it and removed a glowing branch. He used it to light a cigarette.
"That's very non-regulation, you know," Delaney said. "You're not supposed to bring things like that through to Minus Time."
Steiger grinned. "You want a drag?"
"Sure."
Steiger passed him the cigarette.
They took turns standing watch and the night passed uneventfully. At dawn, they rose and washed up in the river, then checked the baited hooks they had left in the water overnight. Each of them had caught a fish. They were trained in survival techniques, but so far their journey was less a mission than a pleasant hike. Living off the land would pose no problem. As they were finishing their breakfast of cooked fish, someone hailed their campsite from the riverbank.
Exchanging glances, they made sure their weapons were within easy reach before replying to the call. A moment later, a slender, strikingly handsome young man came through the trees and stopped a short distance away from them. Like them, he was dressed in a knee-length chiton and a short mantle draped over one shoulder. He carried a small leather pouch and a bronze spear. A knife was tucked into his girdle. He had dark, curly hair that was in need of cutting. His cheeks were youthfully smooth. His features were well defined, with prominent cheekbones, a high forehead, a sharp nose and a slightly squared chin. His eyes were dark and his mouth had a proud, stubborn look about it.
"I did not wish to come into your camp and take you unaware," said the young man, "so I gave warning of my presence. As you see, I am alone and mean no harm."
"Come forward, then," said Delaney. "If you are hungry, we still have some food left."
The young man stepped forward and they could not help but notice that he wore only one sandal.
"The price of doing someone a good turn," he explained, noticing their gaze and glancing down at his unshod foot. "I was carrying a poor old woman across the river on my back. She would have been drowned for certain on her own; the current is swift and she was too frail to have stood against it. My foot became caught between two stones halfway across. While I struggled to free it, the strap upon my sandal broke. With the old woman on my back, I could not have tried to catch it before it was swept away. Faced with a choice between the loss of an old woman or a sandal, I chose to lose the sandal. The proper choice to make, I think, if not the most convenient one."