"It has two sets of lungs, as well," the vet continued, excitedly. "The equine lungs are about average for an animal of this size, but its human lungs are at least twice the normal capacity. Both sets of lungs are interconnected by a complex system of sub-bronchials, with valves, no less! The human lungs seem to be the primary respiratory system; the equine lungs apparently act as a sort of turbocharger. The stamina of this creature must be almost boundless. Its digestive system is basically similar to ours, but larger and more complex, with a wider variety of enzymes. The creature is omnivorous, but judging by its stool, its recent diet has been primarily vegetarian. The spinal cord is the most interesting part, however, incredibly complex, with the tensile strength of-"
Forrester cut him off. "I can well understand your fascination, Dr. Anderson, but what I'm primarily concerned with is the creature's ability to withstand a psychological conditioning procedure. It's imperative that it has no memory of this experience, but I don't want to injure it in any way if I can help it."
"There's nothing in a psychological conditioning procedure that should cause it any physiological damage," Anderson said. "However, I'm not really qualified to venture an opinion on how well its cognitive processes would stand up to such an operation. I'm not a neurosurgeon or a cyberneticist. You'll have to consult with Dr. Hazen."
"Capt. Hazen?" said Forrester. "A moment with you, please?"
The officer in charge of the army medical team turned away from the monitor screens and approached Forrester. "General," she said, with a curt nod.
"What's your prognosis on the debriefing and conditioning procedure?" Forrester asked.
"I would say it's feasible," said Dr. Hazen. "The creature's brain seems normal by our standards, but I can't speak with absolute certainty, because we've obviously never encountered an organism like this before. We haven't had any experience with horses, much less a complex hybrid such as this one, which is why I asked to have Dr. Anderson here to assist. I don't anticipate any major problems, but we're going to proceed cautiously, taking the debriefing and conditioning procedures in very easy stages. We've had good success with the trial debriefing run. The centaur has remained essentially unconscious, yet has answered all questions we put to it."
"We were able to communicate perfectly through an interpreter," said Dr. Anderson. "It speaks classical Greek! General, this creature is intelligent. In a sense, it's even human. We have an unprecedented opportunity here for research that would-"
Forrester cut him off .again. "I'm sorry, Doctor. This is a top security procedure and I'm afraid you're not authorized to conduct any sort of extensive observation. Besides, it would be pointless. The moment my psych team is through with the centaur, they'll start on you."
Anderson stared at him. "You're joking."
"I'm afraid not, Doctor."
"You can't possibly be serious!" Anderson said with disbelief. "This is outrageous! You . . . you have no right! What you're talking about is a flagrant violation of-"
"I'm less concerned with your civil rights, Doctor, than with security," said Forrester. "In the event of a national emergency, the rights of civilians on a military base are governed under the Wartime Emergency Powers Act. Admittedly, I am interpreting them rather loosely. My actions may not be justified in a court of law, but it will prove difficult for you to bring suit against me if you have no memory of the incident."
Anderson was stunned. "General, do you realize what you're saying? What you're talking about is a felony offense!"
"Only if I'm caught," said Forrester. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I have my responsibilities. You'd probably thank me if you understood the full implications of what's happening here. Fortunately for you, you'll be spared that knowledge. It will enable you to sleep nights. Frankly, I envy you that luxury."
Creed Steiger had never liked politicians. Politician, he knew, was not the term of proper protocol at the Council of Nations. They preferred to call each other delegates. But they acted just like politicians, he thought, right hands constantly raised t
o make a point of order, left hands covering their asses, at least when "proper protocol" didn't go completely by the boards and they started shouting at each other like traders at a commodities exchange. Perhaps delegates was a good term for them after all, thought Steiger. What they did best was delegate responsibility and the commodities they traded in were lives, his own among them. He hadn't cared much for their "proper protocol" at all, something he had demonstrated in a dramatic manner, by firing three copper-jacketed hollowpoints into the ceiling of their meeting chamber.
The revolver was a 20th century antique, but it was in excellent condition. Steiger had brought it from its time of origin to the 27th century. It was a treasured part of his collection of antique firearms, but it was seldom fired. On this occasion, he had fired it three times into the ceiling of the Council chamber, bringing down a small rain of debris and achieving the desired effect of shocking the members of that august body into silence.
They had asked to see a "delegation"-how they loved that word!-of historical adjustment specialists, temporal agents. They wanted to hear from the front-line troops, to solicit their views concerning the best way to handle the temporal crisis they were facing. The request had been submitted through the Director General of the Referee Corps to the Deputy Chief of the Temporal Army Command. General Moses Forrester had bumped the request down to his executive officer, Col. Creed Steiger. It was a chance to meet face to face with some of the most powerful government officials in the world and Steiger wasn't about to pass it up. He had a few things he wanted to get off his mind.
The Council had been impressed by his appearance. He had the right look for a high ranking military officer of the Temporal Corps. For a change, it was the way he really looked. Having his own face back was a relief after the numerous cosmetic surgeries necessitated by his undercover activities as a former field agent of the T.I.A. His flaxen blond hair was parted casually on the side and fell over his forehead to a point just above his pale gray eyes. His features were Germanic in their squared regularity, only his nose was rather Semitic, sharp and hooked like the beak of a predatory bird, giving him a hard, cruel appearance. His frame was large and well muscled and his bearing was just short of textbook military, with the casual, relaxed-yet-controlled motions of the seasoned soldier. Yes, he looked like the sort of man they wanted to hear from, but the format Steiger chose for his presentation wasn't quite what the Council members had expected.
It was the first time any of them had ever heard gunfire. The Council Security Force had not appreciated Steiger's demonstration, either. None of them had any familiarity with lead projectile weapons and the gunshots gave them a bad turn.
"What you don't know can kill you," Steiger had said into the stunned silence occasioned by his blasting away at the ceiling. He held up the nickel-plated gun for all to see. "This is a Smith & Wesson 25-dash-5 .45 caliber revolver chambered for the "Long Colt" cartridge. It fires a hollowpoint lead projectile with a copper jacket, propelled by gases generated by the explosion of the powder in the shell casing. This projectile, called a bullet, expands on impact and tears through everything in its path, shredding organs and pulverizing bone. It's a primitive weapon, centuries out of date. But that doesn't make it any less effective.
"As a covert operative of the Temporal Intelligence Agency, I've had to face weapons such as this one and others even more primitive, though no less deadly. You people were the ones who put me there. Well, now that I've got your attention, I'm going to tell you what the result of that has been and why I don't think you're qualified to make any operational decisions concerning the resolution of this crisis. I know what I'm talking about. I suggest you listen carefully."
They had heard the explanations and the theories of the scientists, but Steiger went over it again, presenting the situation to them in simple, laymen's terms, without technical asides and theoretical conjectures. Another universe had come into congruence with their own and the convergence of two separate timelines had resulted in a confluence effect which rippled through both timestreams, causing them to intertwine like a double helix strand of DNA. The integrity of each depended on the disruption and possibly even the complete destruction of the other.
No one knew the exact cause of the phenomenon, whether it was a result of temporal contamination brought about by the actions of the Time Wars or chronophysical misalignment caused by clocking massive amounts of energy through warps in timespace known as Einstein-Rosen Bridges. The fabric of time and space had ruptured or shifted in some way and reality now had an alternative-one that was no less real.
The congruence of two separate timelines was causing an instability in the flow of temporal inertia. The timelines were apparently not dissimilar enough to set up crosscurrents in the timeflow which would manifest themselves in temporal discontinuities. Instead, the result was a surge in the inertial flow at points of confluence, where the separate timestreams converged like two powerful rivers. The Laws of Temporal Relativity attempted to compensate for the instability. The greater the number of confluence points, the stronger the inertial flow. Eventually, if unchecked, the increased flow in temporal inertia would overcome the rippling effect caused by the congruence and cause both timestreams to merge into one timeline. The only way to keep that from happening, it seemed, was to maintain the temporal instability caused by the congruence, to keep working against the surge in the inertia flow. Yet, maintaining temporal instability meant almost certain temporal disruptions. To avoid a catastrophe, they had to invite disaster. It was a Hobson's Choice of the lesser of two evils.
The Council could no longer afford the expedience of using time travel to resolve international conflicts. It had been a convenient form of warfare. It had absolved the world powers of facing the harsh realities of war in their own time. It was so convenient and so beneficial to international economy that the least little disagreements were often quickly escalated into fullscale "arbitration actions" with temporal soldiers being clocked back to fight and die in ancient wars. Now fear had finally done what reason previously failed to accomplish. A ceasefire in the arbitration actions had been called and the Council's member nations were forced into uneasy unity against a common enemy-their doppelgangers in the congruent universe.
Now they want to listen to the soldiers, Steiger thought. Tell us how to fight the war, they said. Tell us how to win. The best answer he had to give them was that he did not know. His best advice was more direct. "Leave it to the professionals," he said. "Stay the hell out of our way. You can't legislate temporal combat. More wars than you can count have been lost by inept politicians telling experienced generals what to do." Diplomacy had never been his strong suit, but then it was a bit late for diplomatic answers.
As the robot shuttle crossed the plaza of the Pendleton Base Departure Station, Steiger sat silently, lost in thought. The soldiers he had chosen to accompany him had been content to let him do most of the talking. When questioned, they had answered briefly and politely, but they were veterans of the Temporal Corps and felt it was a waste of time trying to educate a bunch of politicians. Steiger hoped it wasn't. Time was a valuable commodity.
As the shuttle crossed the plaza, Steiger saw soldiers in every type of costume imaginable milling about in the Departure Station, waiting to clock out to their assignments. A ceasefire had been called, but at Pendleton Base-as at other military bases-things seemed not to have changed at all.