“You will not go into Chicago.”
“Not — But what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“You may visit any other city within range of your fifty-hour limit: Elgin, Aurora, Joliet, Bloomington, the city of your choice, but Chicago is now closed to you.”
He stared at the woman, knowing humiliation. “But this is ridiculous! The problem may be cleared away, all but forgotten twenty-two years from now.”
“It will not be forgotten so easily, sir. It will be wise to observe every precaution. Mr. Seabrooke has decided you may not enter Chicago.”
“I’ll resign — I’ll quit!”
“Yes, sir, you may do that. The Indic contract will be returned to you.”
“I won’t quit!” he said angrily.
“As you wish.”
Saltus broke in. “Civilian — sit down.”
Chaney was surprised to discover himself standing. He sat down, knowing a mixture of frustration and humbled pride. He knotted his fingers together in his lap and pressed until they hurt.
After a space he said: “I’m sorry. I apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” Saltus agreed easily. “And don’t let it trouble you. Seabrooke knows what he’s doing — he doesn’t want you naked and shivering in some Chicago jail, and he doesn’t want some damned fool chasing you with a gun.”
Major Moresby was eyeing him.
“I don’t quite read you, Chaney. You’ve got more guts than I suspected, or you’re a damned fool.”
“When I lose my temper I’m a damned fool. I can’t help myself.” He felt Katrina watching him and turned back to her. “What am I supposed to do up there?”
“Mr. Seabrooke wishes you to spend the greater part of your time in a library copying pertinent information. You will be equipped with a camera having a copying lens when you emerge on target; your specific assignment is to photograph those books and periodicals which are germane to the information discovered in Joliet.”
“You want me to follow the plots and the wars and the earthquakes through history. Make a copy of everything — steal a history book if I have to.”
You may purchase one, sir, and copy the pages in the room downstairs.”
“That sounds exciting. A really wild visit to the future. Why not bring back the book with me?”
She hesitated. “I will have to ask Mr. Seabrooke. It seems reasonable, if you compensate for the weight.”
“Katrina, I want to go outside and see something — I don’t want to spend the time in a hole.”
She said again: “You may visit any other city within range of your fifty-hour limit, sir. If it is safe.”
Morosely: “I wonder what Bloomington is like.”
“Girls!” Saltus answered. “One sweet liberty port!”
“Have you been there?”
“No.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“Just trying to cheer you up, civilian. I’m helpful that way.” He picked up the photograph of the girl on the Joliet street corner and waggled it between thumb and forefinger. “Go up in the summertime. It’s nicer then.”
Chaney looked at him with a particular memory in the front of his mind. Saltus caught it and actually blushed. He dropped the photograph and betrayed his fleeting guilt by sneaking a sidelong glance at Katrina.
She said: “We hope for a thorough coverage, sir.”
“I wish I had more than fifty hours in a library. A decent research job requires several weeks, even months.”
“It may be possible to return again and again, at proper intervals of course. I will ask Mr. Seabrooke.”
Saltus: “Hey — what about that, Katrina? So what happens after the survey? What do we do next?”
“I can’t give you a meaningful answer, Commander. At this point in the operation nothing beyond the Chicago probe is programmed. Nothing more could be programmed until we knew the outcome of these first two steps. A final answer cannot be made until you return from Chicago.”
“Do you think we’ll do something else?”
“I would imagine that other probes will be prepared when this one is satisfactorily completed and the resultant data analyzed.” But then she added a hasty postscript. “That is only my opinion, Commander. Mr. Seabrooke has said nothing of possible future operations.”
“I like your opinion, Katrina. It’s better than a bucket in the South China Sea.”
Chaney asked: “What happened to the alternatives? To Jerusalem, and Dallas?”
Moresby broke in. “What’s this?”
The young woman explained them to Moresby and Saltus. Chaney realized that only he had been told of both alternate programs, and he wondered now if he had let a cat out of the bag by mentioning them.
Katrina said: “The alternatives are being held in abeyance; they may never be implemented.” She looked at Brian Chaney and paused. “The engineers are studying a new matter related to vehicle operations; there appears to be a question whether the vehicle may operate in reverse prior to the establishment of a power source.
“Hey — what’s that in English?”
“It means I can’t go back to old Jericho,” Chaney told him. “No electricity back there. I think she said the TDV needs power all along the line to move anywhere.”
Moresby: “But I understood you to say those test animals had been sent back a year or more?”
“Yes, sir, that is correct, but the nuclear reactor has been operating for more than two years. The previous lower limit of the TDV was December 30, 1941, but now that may have to be drastically revised. If it is found that the vehicle may not operate prior to the establishment of its power source, the lower limit will be brought forward to an arbitrary date of two years ago. We do not wish to lose the vehicle.”
Chaney said: “One of those bright engineers should sit down to his homework — lay out a paradox graph, or map, or whatever. Katrina, if you keep this thing going, you’re going to find yourself up against a wall sooner or later.”
She colored and betrayed a minute hesitation before answering him. “The Indiana Corporation has been approached on the matter, sir. Mr. Seabrooke has proposed that all our data be turned over to them for a crash study. The engineers are becoming aware of the problems.”
Saltus looked around at Chaney and said: “Sheeg!”
Chaney grinned and thought to offer an apology to Moresby and the woman. “That’s an old Aramaic word. But it expresses my feelings quite adequately.” He considered the matter. “I can’t decide what I would rather do: stay here and make paradoxes, or go back there and solve them.”
Saltus said: “Tough luck, civilian. I was almost ready to volunteer. Almost, I said. I think I’d like to stand on the city wall at Larsa with you and watch the Euphrates flood; I think I’d like — What?”
“The city wall at Ur, not Larsa.”
“Well, wherever it was. A flood, anyway, and you said it got into the Bible. You have a smooth line, you could persuade me to go along.” An empty gesture. “But I guess that’s all washed out now — you’ll never go back.”
“I don’t believe the White House would authorize a probe back that far,” Chaney answered. “They would see no political advantage to it, no profit to themselves.”
Major Moresby said sharply: “Chaney, you. sound like a fool!”
“Perhaps. But if we could probe backward I’d be willing to lay you money on certain political targets, but nothing at all on others. What would the map of Europe be like if Attila had been strangled in his crib?”
“Chaney, after all!”
He persisted. “What would the map of Europe be like if Lenin had been executed for the anti-Czarist plot, instead of his older brother? What would the map of the United States be like if George the Third had been cured of his dementia? If Robert E. Lee had died in infancy?”