Marcia nodded. “All right. I understand.”
As the team left the office, Steve walked out last, wondering how much of a burden Marcia was going to be. By the end of the first mission, he and Chad had earned a mutual grudging respect. On the other hand, Rita Chavez, the historian on the second mission, had caused more problems than she’d solved. The other two, Gene Titus and Judy Taub, had been pleasant and reliable. However, tolerating Marcia’s personality was going to be a trial.
Hunter drove the team through the clean, peaceful streets of the underground city.They were brightly lit, full of shops and restaurants. Hunter drove among both robot and human pedestrians, as well as other vehicles. The robots and humans who lived in Mojave Center pursued their daily routines, unaware of anything unusual happening in their midst. Steve wondered what they would think if they knew a device that could send humans and robots through time existed right in their city. Hunter had insisted on keeping their time travel a secret, however, and Steve had agreed that was a good idea.
When Hunter had first started his assignment in pursuit of Mojave Center Governor, he had arranged to shut down the Bohung Institute. A city Security detail guarded the exterior, and another robot, R. Daladier, had been assigned to replace Ishihara in Room F-12, where the sphere was located, in the unlikely event that Wayne Nystrom appeared there. When the team entered Room F-12, Steve saw that Hunter had already prepared their clothing and money for the trip.
“I had two sets of clothing made today,” said Hunter. “I was not certain if we would masquerade as people of some wealth or not, so I prepared one set to imply wealth and one to convey modest means. Also, I have provided two outfits in each set, so we will have a change of clothes with us. Marcia, please check them for authenticity. I can assure you that no synthetics have been used, of course. You will each have a radio communicator in the form of a lapel pin, as before.”
“We should wear the better clothing,” said Marcia briskly, glancing at the two stacks.
Steve watched as Marcia walked over to the stack of neatly folded black and gray silk. She lifted a long black robe and held it out at arm’s length. The robe was shaped in a rough triangle, flared at the bottom with a neck that simply overlapped, like a bathrobe. From its size, Steve could see that this was for Hunter.
“This is fine,” said Marcia, folding it again.
“What about the neck?” Steve asked. “In all the old pictures I’ve seen-and the movies set in pre-industrial China-the gowns had these tight collars that stand straight up around the person’s neck.”
“They’re called Mandarin collars,” said Marcia, as she set Hunter’s gown aside and shook out a pail” of baggy trousers. “They came into style many centuries later.” She glanced over the trousers, turning them in her hands. “Your research has served us well.” She set those down and picked up an identical set of clothes in Steve’s size. “If these are in the same style, I don’t need to examine them.”
“They are identical except for size,” said Hunter. “Will wearing identical colors be acceptable? The social acceptability of this was not mentioned in the history I found. Also, embroidery was available but I felt we should appear to be moderately successful rather than very wealthy. So I chose clothing in solid colors.”
“I agree,” said Marcia. “Appearing modestly well-to-do is wise. It will fit the roles of merchant and aspiring scholar that we have chosen. Further, black is good, a sign of prosperity. Since the number of dyes was limited in the society we will visit, most people in a given economic level wore fairly similar clothes.”
“What about ours?” Jane pointed to the pile of gray clothes.
“They should be similar.” Marcia lifted a plain dark blue robe and then a matching pair of loose trousers. “Yes, these are fine.”
“Similar?” Steve shook his head. “The cut is exactly the same, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Hunter. “The styles were very loose. No form-fitting was involved.”
“These are fine,” said Marcia. “But I don’t see any coats. What time of year are we going to visit?”
“Late summer,” said Hunter. “It would be August according to our calendar, though of the course the Chinese are using their lunar calendar.”
“Khanbaliq is pretty far north. The nights could be chilly even in summer.”
“My data shows that fur coats would be commonly used in cold weather,” said Hunter. “This is a problem we faced on an earlier mission. We do not use real fur in our time and I dare not take artificial fur back with us. So if we need coats, we must buy them there.” Hunter pointed to a small pile of coins. “I have gathered authentic coins from that time for us to use, as we have on earlier missions.”
Marcia picked up a coin and looked at it, nodding. “Paper currency was in use during this time. I should think it would be easy to imitate.”
“I did not attempt to locate any surviving bills to use as models. The likelihood of their surviving to our time was too low.”
“I’m going to change,” Steve said impatiently, picking up his clothes and heading for the adjacent room.
“You do not have your shoes,” said Hunter. “Or the under robe.”
“Huh?” Steve stopped and turned around again, looking at Marcia.
She picked up a pair of shoes from the counter. As she turned them over in her hands, all Steve could see was flimsy black cloth over flat, heelless soles. She held them out to him.
“Those are shoes? What are they made of?” Steve asked doubtfully, as he took them from her.
“The soles are woven hemp,” said Hunter. “The rest of each shoe is just cloth.”
“That is an authentic design,” said Marcia.
“However, under pressure from the First Law, I arranged for the inside of the shoes to have some arched shaping and padding for your feet,” Hunter added. “This is an improvement that I must hope does not influence anyone in the past, but I believe the likelihood of anyone noticing the inside of our shoes is very small.”
“Fine with me. I just want to get on with it.” Steve also accepted a plain white under robe from Marcia, and went to change in the adjoining room.
The robes and trousers felt more uncomfortable than the clothing Steve had worn on earlier missions. The baggy trousers and flowing robe, even after he had tied the sash, felt weird. The shoes fit all right, at least. He rejoined the others with a self-conscious scowl.
Jane glanced at him and took her turn without saying anything. Marcia took no notice of him, instead looking closely at each coin. Hunter gave Steve a cloth bag containing the change of clothes for everyone.
Steve waited in silence. He hoped that this mission would end more easily than the others. Between Marcia’s arrogance and these bulky, uncomfortable clothes, he did not expect to enjoy this one very much.
When they had all changed clothes, Hunter opened the big sphere and helped them inside. He took a moment to set the console and then joined them. When he closed the sphere, they all slid together in the darkness, jumbled in the curved bottom.