Free All the Colors of Time by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff Page B

incident and having
you not shoot Gorbachev.”
    Ferris shook his head. “But then, we’d be there twice.”
    “Not possible,” said Shiro. “If we got you there a
millisecond before your initial materialization, the pattern of the first event
will adjust itself to the second. Think of time as light waves. The first
temporal event—your first visit—set up a waveform, if you will. If the second
temporal event—the second visit—sets up its waveform just prior to the first
one, it will cancel it out, engulf it, re-form it.”
    “Then what?” asked Caldwell.
    “Well, to paraphrase Reinhold Niebuhr,” said Oslovski. “Have
the courage to change what you can, the serenity to accept what you cannot
change and the wisdom to know the difference. Accept peace. Get used to it, and
to the idea that you do have a
peacetime role that’s more than just training for the next war—the war that won’t
come. We can help you do that. Dr. Keller could help you set up a program to
ease you into that peacetime role. The future doesn’t have to be miserable just
because you have no enemies.” She nearly crossed her eyes at the sheer
absurdity of the thought. “Judging from Major Hilyard’s description of the
future, I’d say you’ll have lots to do . . . and lots of support
in doing it.”
    Caldwell chewed his lip and thought. Then he glanced at
Hilyard. “What do you think, Major?”
    “I think it’s worth a shot . . . sir.”
    “Ferris?”
    “I—I can’t say, sir. I . . . I don’t know.
This peace . . . it isn’t real. It can’t be.”
    “Only time will tell,” observed Oslovski. “You know, back in
the early 20th century a gentleman named Abdu’l-Bahá Abbas said, ‘Why not try
peace for a while? If we find war is better, it will not be difficult to fight
again.’” She spread her hands toward Caldwell, pushing the ball into his court.
    “You’d be willing to set up counseling clinics, uh,
reorientation, or whatever?” he asked.
    “Whatever it takes,” said Oslovski.
    “Damn!” Caldwell slapped the table with the flat of his hand,
making everyone jump. He pointed a finger at Oslovski.
    “You’ve got my back to the wall, Doctor. I’ve got no choice
and you know it. It’s either put up, or shut up and go back empty-handed. I’ll
get the Chiefs up here. You can start your psycho-stuff on them while I package
a few ideas and try to sell them on the Hill. Shouldn’t have too much trouble
with the environmental lobby, I suppose. Right now, I’ve got to lie down. I’ve
got a hell of a headache.”
    He pushed himself away from the table, rose and left, Ferris
trailing behind him like a woebegone pet.
    Hilyard sat where he was and smiled at the tabletop. The
tension in the room mounted by the second. Finally, he got up and glanced down
the table at Oslovski. “I don’t know how you did it,” he said. “And I’m not
sure I want to. There’s a part of me that wants to blow the whistle on you,
even though I couldn’t prove a damn thing . . . at least, not
without implicating myself in certain matters. But there’s another part of me
that knows what you did was right . . . for everybody concerned.”
    He gave the circle of stunned faces a long, lingering look,
then nodded and moved to the door, stopping just short of the pressure pad. He
turned back. “One thing I’ve got to know: When did you play out that little
scene Caldwell and I just saw?”
    Oslovski cleared her suddenly dry throat. “Two days ago in
the theatre downstairs.”
    He nodded, smiling. “Thank you,” he said. The door slipped
open to let him out, then closed silently behind him.
    oOo
    Less than a month later, the Joint Chiefs of Staff made a
groundbreaking proposal to Congress that instead of mothballing fleets, bases
and men, the government embark on a military overhaul, converting whatever was
convertible to peacetime use. Battleships could fight oil slicks; tanks could
fight fires; troops could learn