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frontier. So despite his youth he was not without exposure to a military culture. Besides which, he was addressing a man who was something of a legend in the Service as well as head of Special Ops.
    “Good. But I want to make sure you understand the implications of that. We won’t have the new controllable TRD’s, enabling the mission leader to bring the team back to the present on the basis of his own reading of the situation. No, we’re going to be committed to the target milieu for exactly three months and twenty days, come hell or high water, after which our old-style TRDs will activate automatically. If you’re like most people who have never experienced that kind of retrieval, you may be a little apprehensive at the thought of being suddenly snatched back to the displacer stage without warning. In fact, I’ll be able to tell you exactly when to expect it, thanks to the ‘clock’ that’s one of the functions of my computer implant. Incidentally, mine will be the only such implant. Superintendent Mondrago here has recently received one. But it has now been deactivated—”
    (“The story of my life,” Mondrago muttered.)
    “—due to the Service regulation that such normally illegal cybernetics are only permissible for the mission leader, for whom their necessity is self-evident on a number of levels.” For the same reason, Pauline Da Cunha’s implant had been deactivated on their Caribbean expedition. It was, Jason thought, just another example of the Authority’s inflexible, overcautious rules-worship. It was a standing sore point in his relationship with Rutherford, and he permitted himself a quick glare at the older man. But for all his irritation, he grudgingly admitted to himself that the Service could be worse off. They could have had an operations director who never said no to the old ladies of both genders who dominated the council.
    “Another consequence of this mission’s special circumstances of is that we will be accompanied by Dr. Carlos Dabney, an historian of the period, and Mr. Irving Nesbit, an administrative assistant to the council.” Jason smiled thinly at Logan’s and Aiken’s expressions, which spoke eloquently of what they thought of having two civilians to nursemaid. “Let me assure you that these gentlemen are not without experience. Dr. Dabney has already spent time in the target milieu, as part of a research expedition led by the late Inspector Da Cunha.” Like everyone else in the Service, Logan and Aiken knew Pauline Da Cunha was dead; but that was all they knew, for the details of her death had been strictly suppressed. Jason and Mondrago had sat, tightly bound, in a jungle clearing and watched those details in the firelight; now they exchanged a quick eye-contact before Jason hurried on. “And at any rate, his detailed knowledge of the period is indispensable to achieving our objective. He understands that this is not an academic jaunt.” I hope , Jason mentally hedged before continuing.
    “As for Mr. Nesbit, he was with me and Superintendent Mondrago on our recent expedition to the seventeenth-century Caribbean, of which you may have heard a few things, so you know he came through some harrowing experiences. I’m confident he will be able to withstand the relatively civilized milieu of nineteenth-century North America.” Jason did not elaborate on the reason for Nesbit’s presence, and he was glumly certain he didn’t need to. From his own experiences in the twentieth century, the term political commissar came to mind. “Are there any questions regarding what I’ve said so far?”
    “Just one, sir,” said Logan in his slow, deliberate way. “We’ve been told the dates of this mission. Don’t they overlap the time you and Superintendent Mondrago were in the target milieu?”
    “That is correct. For that period he and I will be contemporaneous with our own slightly younger selves. As you know, this is contrary to normal operational doctrines.” Rutherford