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can anyone be prepared for that?” The reserved,
soft-spoken Naval Admiral Krenshaw was visibly stunned.
    Vance Keller nodded sympathetically. “I know it’s a
terrifying prospect—to suddenly find your entire life rewritten—wives married
to someone else, children never born.
    And, of course, the potential for guilt could be immense—the
realization that you did it to yourselves.”
    Caldwell looked like he’d just swallowed a sour pill.
    “And then,” added Oslovski, “there is the possibility that
your operatives could be stranded in the past.”
    “I thought you said the technology was reliable,” said
Caldwell sharply.
    “Oh, it is. But it’s entirely possible that with a change in
history, the technology might never be developed.”
    “That’s damn pretzel logic! If the technology is never
developed then how could anyone go back in time to-to get trapped?”
    “The technology is reliable,” said Oslovski. “But the
concepts behind it are sometimes dimly understood.”
    Caldwell’s jaw was ticking. “Just how do you propose we
prepare for these eventualities?”
    Oslovski met his chilly gaze with an equal amount of frost. “That’s
what we have a psychologist on staff for, General. I would recommend that your
operatives spend some time with him during their orientation.”
    “Orientation?”
    “We’ll need to do a complete medical work-up on anyone who’s
going to be sent that far back through the Spectrum and stay for any length of
time,” said Trevor. “We have to know the normal physiology so any abnormalities
can be spotted.”
    Caldwell nodded, once. “When do you want them?”
    “Right now. Barring unforeseen difficulties,” said Oslovski,
“we can be ready to send one of your men back to the target in a week, maybe
two.”
    Caldwell frowned, puckering his mouth. “You’re sure the
field can’t be expanded to take both men through at once?”
    “That could lead to a dangerous instability in the Field. We
might attempt to send two subjects through in single file, as it were. But
until we’ve successfully retrieved two nonhuman subjects, we can’t try a double
passage with your men.”
    Caldwell looked like he wanted to say something else, but
didn’t. He took his Joint Chiefs and departed for Washington D.C., leaving
Ferris and Hilyard in the capable hands of Oslovski and Keller.
    oOo
    Vance began “preventive therapy” sessions with his two
subjects almost immediately. They discussed the ramifications of editing
history in great detail. He encouraged them to talk about their fears. Then he
worked hard at exploiting them—something that rubbed completely against his
grain.
    “Dammit, Mags, I can’t help but feel like a traitor to my
calling. I’m supposed to help people overcome their fears and anxieties, not feed them.” Vance ran a hand roughly through his
curly, black hair and grimaced.
    “Sometimes fear is healthy, Vance. You know that. It keeps
us from doing stupid, dangerous things like screw with history. People should be afraid to do that shouldn’t
they? Shouldn’t they be afraid or ashamed to commit murder?”
    He looked up at her out of the corner of his eye. “Okay,
when you put it like that, it sounds almost noble. I guess I just need to be
sure that it really is. That we’re not just rationalizing. Because using
psychology that way rubs me raw.”
    Magda folded her arms across her chest and studied his face.
“Is it that bad? Do you want to opt out?”
    He threw up his hands in exasperation. “No, it’s not that bad, dammit, but this little
voice in my head keeps telling me it should be. Frankly, knowing what I know, it’s hard to be objective. Hell, it’s impossible to be objective. Hilyard
gives me the creeps and Ferris has the most advanced case of tunnel vision I’ve
ever seen when it comes to the activities of the military. To hear him talk,
you’d think the Joint Chiefs should be canonized—or at least knighted. And
Hilyard—” He shook