All the Colors of Time (3 page)

“Everyone’s self-centered, Mags. It’s a perception we learn
to adjust as we realize the universe does not revolve around us.”

“Only some of us don’t adjust very well.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. At least you realize there’s
a dilemma.”

oOo

That was not enough consolation to give Magda Oslovski a
good night’s sleep. She arrived at work feeling limp and run down. A glance at
the faces of her senior staff revealed matching sets of dark circles under
their eyes. Louis Manyfeather and Vahid Khadivian looked more well-rested, but
they were unusually quiet as they went about readying Toto for his morning
outing. Judy Walsh was almost surly.

Oslovski gathered Haley, Tsubaki and Wu for a review of the
previous day’s data. They were business-like (she was beginning to hate that
word) and muted, answering questions in monosyllables and sharing sullen
glances. They were on their way down to the O.R. when she was paged to take a
phone call from Washington. Three pairs of eyes assaulted her.

She held them off with a shake of her head. “I’ll handle
this,” she said.

“Handle it, how?” asked Trevor.

She grimaced and crossed her fingers. “With wisdom, I hope.”

It was Caldwell, of course, wanting an unofficial report in
anticipation of the official one he’d receive along with the other Chiefs the
next week.

Oslovski licked suddenly dry lips. “We’re . . .
we’re doing very well here, General. In fact, we . . . we’ve
successfully completed Phase Three of the project.” She was glad she had the
video link off and he couldn’t see her face.

“Phase Three? Ah, yes! That would be the short jumps into
the past.”

“Yes. We sent Toto—the Temporal unit—back in time in
increments from one hour to one year and successfully retrieved it. After a
thorough study of the data we included a compartmented cage containing several
varieties of insects. They survived and we were then able to send mice.”

“Which also survived?”

“Yes, General. Although we’re still monitoring them for side
effects. There did seem to be some disorientation. You can never be too careful
with live animals.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Then you haven’t sent a
human being anywhere yet.”

“Of course not. That would be premature. Of course, it’s
only a matter of time.”

“If you need a volunteer—”

“No, General. We do not. It’s too early.”

“Hmmm. So the next Phase, then—Phase Four—that’s where you’ll
shoot for longer backward jumps?”

“Yes. We’ll lengthen both our stay and our range. It should
be . . . exciting.” (
It
would have been if you weren’t footing the bill,
she thought.)

“How far back?”

“Uh, we, um, had plans to attempt a jump of several decades.”

“That’s excellent, Dr. Oslovski. That is precisely the time
period we’re interested in for our first experiment. We need to know as soon as
you can send a man back seventy-two years
and
put him wherever we want him.”

“Well, spatial displacement is part of the—” She’d almost
said
next
. “Part of Phase Five.”

“Excellent. Is there any chance you’ll be at that level by
next Monday?”

“Uh, there is a slim possibility.”

“Outstanding. Then I’m going to give you a target, Doctor. A
time and a place to shoot for: April 21, 1992, New York City, World Convention
Center, Main Hall, Upper Deck.”

Oslovski frowned. “Is there a particular reason for that
target? Or is that something I’m not permitted to know?”

“I can only reveal the general nature of the mission,
Doctor. There was a major snafu in New York in ’92. We want to . . .
set it right.”

“Sounds . . . earthshaking.”

“Oh, it will be.” There was more than a little pride in that
statement.

Oslovski was online to the Data Library within seconds of
breaking the connection with Caldwell. She instituted a search for significant
events connected with the date he’d given, knowing full well what she was going
to find.

“First World Congress,” returned the computer in
well-modulated tones.

“Location.”

“World Convention Center, New York.”

Oslovski rolled her eyes. “Just this once, I couldn’t be
wrong?”

The computer didn’t respond.

“Um, detail, please. Significant occurrences connected with
the World Congress.”

“Admittance to Euro-Commonwealth of the Soviet Democratic
Republic of the Russias, Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia and Rumania.
Euro-American Alliance formed, including broad-based arms agreement and
Demilitarization Pact. Continue?”

“Demilitarization Pact—didn’t that have a huge impact on the
military establishment?”

“Affirmative. The Pact formalized the removal of American
forces from Northern Europe and was the beginning of the ongoing dismantling
and consolidating of the super-powers’ armed forces. The Pact was signed on the
second day of the World Congress by the Presidents George Bush and Mikhail
Gorbachev.”

Was that the snafu? The signing of the Pact? “Library, were
there any negative occurrences at the conference? Any . . .
scandals, things of that nature?”

“Affirmative. On the first day of the Congress, an attempt
was made to assassinate President Gorbachev. It was foiled by the United
Nations Guard.”

Oslovski felt a chilly fist grasp her stomach. “Detail,” she
ordered.

“The attempt was made during a televised speech. The
assassin was discovered as he was preparing to fire. The shot went wild. No one
was injured. The President was escorted to safety. However, the assassin was
shot while trying to escape. Members of the U.N. Guard denied responsibility for
the shooting and a cursory examination revealed that the bullet came from a
variety of long-range weapon not used by the U.N. forces. The assassin’s body
was destroyed in a fire before a complete autopsy could be performed. Arson was
suspected. Destruction was complete.”

“No teeth?”

“Specify.”

“Weren’t the assassin’s teeth found? Couldn’t they check
dental records?”

“Negative. The assassin was apparently wearing a dental
plate made of meltable plastic. Analysis of the residue yielded no information.
Identification was never made.”

Oslovski sat quietly, stunned. Was
that
it? Was that the General’s “snafu”? Two possibilities occurred
to her simultaneously. One was that the military meant to keep the assassin
from being killed so the conspirators could be discovered. That was laudable.
But since President Gorbachev had survived, what was the point at this stage in
history?

The other possibility . . .

“Library. Ramifications of attempt on Gorbachev’s
life—analyze.”

“The success of the U.N. Guard in protecting the President
forestalled a major socio-political disaster. The United Nation’s position in
the Congress and subsequent conferences was strengthened and Soviet-American
relations cemented. Both the U.S. and U.S.S.R. expressed outrage at the
destruction of the assassin’s body, which was in the custody of a Naval
hospital. The investigation that followed was a joint Russo-American effort.”

“Further analysis: Impact of these events on the role of the
U.S. military in the world sphere.”

“The handling of the assassination attempt by the U.N.
forces and the subsequent charges of negligence brought against certain Naval
personnel was a factor in diminishing regard for the military establishment.
The ineffectiveness of the military to handle the situation with Gorbachev made
the accords signed by U.S. and Soviet leaders regarding military decommissions
much more tolerable to the American people. Political figures who had stood
behind a strong military abdicated that position faced with what was perceived
as a scandal.”

Oslovski frowned. “Question: At the time the assassination
attempt was made, had either Gorbachev or Bush signed any agreements
significantly affecting the military?”

“Negative. As previously stated, the attempt took place on
the first day of the conference at precisely 11:00 a.m.”

Oslovski had one last question—one she was more than a
little afraid to ask. “Was . . . was the military in any way . . .
implicated in the assassination attempt, or was it just a question of
negligence?”

“There were no formal charges made, although there was some
speculation that the situation involved more than negligence. The assignments
for security were handled directly by a committee made up of high-ranking
military officers.”

Oslovski sank back into her chair.
This has to be wrong,
she thought.
I have to be wrong. This can’t be what it looks like.

It was inconceivable that intelligent human beings could be
capable of something so impossibly evil as attempting to kill, not just a man,
not just a country’s leader, but World Peace.

She got up and went down to O.R., her brain ticking like a
jelly-filled time bomb. The Team was waiting—not very patiently—and nearly
mugged her when she came through the door. She waved them down.

“Yes, it was Caldwell. We . . . we have
things to discuss—after we start Phase Five.”

Trevor made an exasperated sound. “Why? Why can’t we talk
now?”

“Because … because I need to launder my brain. I need to be
a scientist for a while.” (
And because I’m
half hoping Phase Five will flat out fail and buy us some more time.
)

“Places, everyone.”

They went without argument, slid into their duties and
performed them flawlessly. Toto was sent backward in time to several sets of
spatial coordinates that had verifiable landmarks. The experiment was a
complete success. That generated some excitement, but not nearly what it should
have.

At 1:00 p.m., Magda Oslovski looked over the body of data,
gritted her teeth and called a staff meeting.

“As some of you know, I talked with General Caldwell this
morning,” she told the assembled Team. He and the Joint Chiefs of Staff will be
here in six days to see what progress we’ve made on Project Hourglass.”

“We’ve made wonderful progress!” enthused Vahid Khadivian. “Did
you tell him that?”

Everyone else glanced at Khadivian, glanced at Oslovsky,
then studied their blank video displays.

Oslovski started to take off her glasses, then changed her
mind. She had to be able to read them accurately now.

“First, I’ll tell you what he told me. Then I’ll tell you
what I told him. He gave me a target time and location. New York City, 1992,
April 21, World Conference Center.”

“Oh! First World Congress,” said Shiro. Everyone else
nodded.

“Correct. The General informed me that a . . .
snafu—a major mistake—had occurred at this time and location. One the Joint
Chiefs wanted to rectify.” She engaged the computer. “Library. Display
headlines pertinent to the incident on the first day of World Congress.”

The computer produced the front page of a New York newspaper
with a banner headline: ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT AT WORLD CONGRESS—GORBACHEV
UNHARMED.

“The assassin was shot and killed,” said Oslovski. “His body
was destroyed by a suspected arson fire while in the keeping of a Naval
hospital and under a U.S. military guard.”

“Was that the mistake?” asked George. “The assassin’s death
and the destruction of his body?”

Oslovski shook her head. “I don’t know. Let’s see what you
think.” She filled in the details then—slowly, carefully, using the computer as
part of her presentation. When she was finished, there was a heavy,
disbelieving silence.

Trevor Haley broke it. “Do you think they intend to make
sure the assassination attempt is successful?”

Oslovski shrugged and spread her hands. “I hate to think it,
but it looks that way to me. The other possibility doesn’t make sense. Frankly,
it sounds as if the assassin surviving his capture would
really
throw a spanner in the military machine.”

“What did you tell Caldwell?” asked Shiro.

“I told him we’d successfully completed Phase Three.”

Khadivian and Walsh both blanched.

“Phase Three?” repeated Vahid. “But that’s not true. We’ve
completed Phase Four.”

Oslovski shook her head. “I did not lie to the man, Vahid. I
merely under-exaggerated. We
have
completed Phase Three.”

“But when they check our reports—” said Walsh.

Oslovski held up both hands. “Forgive me, Judy, Vahid, but
that is simply not important right now. We have a major moral dilemma on our
hands. I trust I’m not the only one who feels that way.”

A chorus of negatives indicated she was not. “I know I read
some of you the party line yesterday—all that about the neutrality of science.
Well, folks, science may be neutral, but scientists can’t afford to be.
Mankind
can’t afford for us to be.” She
stood up and put both hands flat on the table. “All right, situation is this: I
suspect that the Joint Chiefs intend to use our technology to go back to the
First World Congress and attempt to create a situation that will also make it
the
last
World Congress. Does anyone
else share that suspicion?” She raised her left hand.

Haley, Tsubaki and Manyfeather followed suit
immediately—George Wu with reluctance. Vahid kept both hands in his lap and
looked miserable. Judy Walsh just stared at the table top, a fierce scowl on
her face.

“Do you two disagree?” asked Trevor. “Do you think we’re
being paranoid? It seems to me we at least have reason to tread cautiously
here.”

Vahid shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. They . . .
they’ve paid so much for this research. Without them, we wouldn’t even have
gotten to this stage.”

“We’ll all be paying for this research with our lives if
they use it the way it looks like they mean to.”

Vahid just shook his head again.

Judy said, “I just can’t believe it. My father’s an Air
Force noncom. I can’t believe they’d—”