Time's Chariot

‘Superintendent Adigun, Vienna, sixteenth century, gamma stream. Thank you.’ She seemed to collect herself and put the matter to one side. ‘The second reprimand I know about. What about the first?’

The first was the one Rico was both least and most proud of. ‘That one was a supervisor, also in the field,’ he said. ‘Beta-Rome, C minus three. He was cheating on two women — he had a wife here in the Home Time and at the field site. The bygoner already had a child. Both women suspected another woman, the pressure was on him and he took it out on his bygoner wife’s little girl.’

‘A child beater?’ Rico hadn’t thought Orendal’s expression could get colder, but it did.

‘A child beater. I confronted him and… well, I lost control. As I recall, I told him that for every bruise I found on her, he’d get five. And I demonstrated how. Field Ops are taught to fight unarmed, to kill if necessary, so I was able to rough him up quite a bit.’

‘You should have reported him. They’d have busted him.’

‘I did and they did. They also kicked me out of Specific Operations, knocked me down from Senior Field Op and partnered me with Op Zo to keep an eye on me.’

‘Yes, I heard you were in Specific Operations,’ Orendal said. Rico could tell she was impressed.

‘I certainly was,’ he said. ‘I didn’t always have a career escorting snotty students and collecting reports, Commissioner. It used to be a bit more exciting than that.’

‘You were lucky not to be sacked,’ Orendal said bluntly, and while he could tell she was angry he couldn’t tell if it was at what he had done, or what his victim had done, or both. Field Ops necessarily spent time out of the Home Time’s symb network and hence social preparation had no way of enforcing itself on them. A very great trust was placed on them not to use their skills to abuse that privilege, and while Rico’s victim had betrayed that trust, so had Rico. ‘You should have gone straight to his superiors, not taken the law into your own hands. They’d have moved in at once, replaced him, given him therapy…’

‘With respect,’ Rico said shortly, ‘you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, and you don’t need therapy not to beat children.’

‘No?’

‘No. You just don’t do it, it’s very easy. I’m not doing it now and I’m not even trying.’

Orendal glared at him for a few seconds in silence, and he thought, I’ve blown it. Then, obviously with an effort, she said, ‘I suppose you’ve got good reason to care about bygoner children?’

Was she trying to wind him up? ‘Being one myself, you mean?’ Rico said, as mildly as he could. But it showed she had done her homework and gone through his records. ‘No, not really. Children are children and you don’t abuse them. End of.’

To his surprise, Orendal was flushing. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I said a very stupid thing. You’re quite right.’

‘Why, thank you, Commissioner.’

‘Purely out of interest, do you think of yourself as a bygoner? That’s a personal question which you don’t have to answer.’

‘Oh, I’ll answer,’ Rico said. He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think of myself as a bygoner. I just happen to have been born in an accidental timestream that the Specifics were forced to close down. In the main stream I hadn’t been born, so they had to take my parents’ memory of me from their minds. But they couldn’t just rub me out, so they brought me here at the age of two months. No, I belong to the Home Time.’

‘Do you think that’s why you wanted to work for the College? I notice you started training at sixteen. That’s quite young.’

‘You mean, I owe my whole existence to the College — and believe it or not, I am grateful — so naturally I want to give something back to them?’ Rico shrugged. ‘Maybe. Or maybe I just like the adventure and the challenge.’

‘But you don’t like everything the College does. Your file mentions a certain antipathy towards correspondents.’ Orendal sat back and studied him with one eyebrow raised.

Rico paused a moment to gauge the level of frankness he should use in his reply. What the heck, he thought, set it all to max. ‘I loathe the whole correspondents programme,’ he said bluntly. ‘I think it’s a big stain on what otherwise could be a quite fair and just society.’

‘They’re contributing to that society,’ Orendal pointed out.

‘And how many volunteers do you get?’ Rico demanded. He didn’t give her the opportunity to answer. ‘The correspondents are our way of sweeping our failures under the carpet. Heaven forbid we should try and do anything as useful as help them.’

‘The percentage of correspondents…’ Orendal said.

‘Oh, of course, percentages.’ Rico sat back and flung his hands in the air. ‘That makes it OK.

There’s, what, twenty billion here on Earth? Say a quarter of one per cent of them go wrong each year, and conveniently none of them has friends or families who’ll miss them. So, that’s a mere fifty million people whose lives are torn apart. A pinprick.’

‘It’s considerably less than that,’ Orendal said quietly. ‘Mistakes were made in the past, yes. Psychopathic failures were sent through on the nod. Nowadays, everyone gets at least one try at help and rehabilitation. They enter the programme if all other means have failed. Making them correspondents actually increases their chances of survival.’

‘Maybe you should try harder,’ Rico said. ‘Out of interest, what are the figures? Do as many patricians enter the programme as, say, level fives?’

A hit, he thought with satisfaction, because he could see Orendal control her expression and change the subject.

‘Op Garron, you lost control once in the field,’ she said. ‘Can you be trusted not to do it again, without the restraining influence of Op Zo?’

Rico was taken aback. ‘I hope so. Yes. It depends on the circumstances. Why?’

‘Because you’re on suspension and off the active list, but that doesn’t preclude you doing private work for a sponsor. Now –’ she held up a hand to ward off any comments he might have been about to make, but truth to tell, he was too surprised to make any — ‘I offered to sponsor you once and you turned it down. This needn’t be a permanent arrangement, just while you’re suspended. You’ll still be putting in your hours pending the tribunal, and at the tribunal, it won’t do you any harm to say you’ve been contracted by one of the Commissioners. Are you interested?’

‘Can I ask what work you have in mind?’ he said, if only to play for time while he tried to work out her game.

‘Looking at you, I imagine you’re rated for Europe, tenth to twentieth century?’

‘Sure.’ There were combinations of geographical area and time period that certain Ops couldn’t work in because their ethnic background would make them stand out, but Rico was essentially Caucasian and good for Europe in any period.

‘Commissioner Daiho,’ Orendal said. ‘I want to find out about him.’

‘Find out what?’

‘You know that he made some transferences quite recently — you learned that when you and your partner were going through his things. Op Zo made a report to me.’

‘I remember.’

‘We have co-ordinates for those transferences. I want you to be there too, to observe. Not to interact, you understand.’

‘Of course,’ Rico said. Interacting would mean bringing Home Timers from two different periods together, and Morbern’s Code had definite views on that. But incognito observing was quite in order.

Orendal kept talking. ‘For reasons of my own, I want to find out more about him, and I want reasons for any and all unusual behaviour. Can you manage that?’

This was a lifeline! The same woman who had inadvertently contributed to his suspension was giving him a chance to make good. She had pitched it just right: it would keep him active, it would keep up his hours, it would impress the tribunal — and there was just the slightest hint of mystery, though no doubt Daiho had had perfectly good reasons for his transferences which were frankly neither his business nor hers.

‘I can manage that,’ he said.

Now there was no mistaking her smile, or its warmth. ‘I’m glad,’ she said. She stood up and held out a hand. ‘I’d like you to get started as soon as you can. You’ll need to prepare so I’ll give you authorization for all the records