"It's beginning to appear, Vail," Paratime Commissioner Tortha Karf said, "that you're more interested in playing Colonel Verkan of the Hos-Hostigos Mounted Rifles than you are in being Chief of the Paratime Police."
"That's hitting below the belt, Tortha," Verkan said, running his fingers through his blonde beard. "I know I haven't been back on Home Time-Line for more than two ten-days, but it's imperative that I establish my cover in Greffa as Verkan the trader. If I don't, one of these days some Grefftscharrer merchant is going to arrive in Hostigos Town and someone's going to ask him about the merchant prince Verkan, and he's going to answer, 'Verkan who?' Then, not only will two years of hard work be plunged down the drain, but also the Paratime Secret itself will be endangered, along with Great King Kalvan and his family. You know how those Dhergabar University Professors would like to get their hands on a 'noble savage' like Kalvan and pick him apart in one of their Mentalist labs."
Tortha nodded his head in agreement.
The Paratime Secret was the keystone of First Level civilization. The only inflexible law concerning outtime activities was that the secret of Paratemporal Transposition must be kept inviolate. Life had been grim on Home Time Line twelve thousand years ago, when his ancestors had just about worn the planet out. Then the Ghaldron-Hesthor Transtemporal Field was discovered and First Level civilization was allowed access to an uncountable number of parallel time-lines. Before Paratime Transposition, First Level had a world population of half a billion and it was all they could do to sustain that small number. Now the population had stabilized at ten billion and most Home Time-Line Citizens lived a life of ease and luxury, with both mechanical and outtime human servants to answer every need and desire.
It was the ultimate parasite culture, secretly drawing off the resources and population of millions of other time-lines. A little here, a little there, but not enough to really hurt anyone. But unfortunately, maybe even tragically, that secret would be discovered on another time-line someday, just as Kalvan had brought an end to Styphon's House fireseed secret and monopoly by re-inventing gunpowder and then telling everyone about it-even his enemies! Which made him many friends and the nemesis of Styphon's House. When the Paratemporal Transposition secret-a thousand times more complex than the fireseed mystery-was broken; well, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that the fate and welfare of ten billion Home Timeliners would depend upon the reflexes and ruthlessness of the Paratime Police.
"Verkan, it appears to me you've got a bad case of Outtime Identification Syndrome. As you yourself know, it happens to the best of Paratimers. First Level civilization depends on being able to secretly draw upon the resources of millions of alternate time-lines and we can't afford to let any one man-not even the Paratime Chief of Police!-put our way of life in jeopardy. One of these days you're going to have to make a choice between loyalty to a friend and your natural loyalty to the Home Time-Line.
"If it ever comes to the point where King Kalvan or his people comes between you and your job as Paratime Chief of Police, then I'll be the first to recommend the Paratime Commission that you be cashiered from your job."Tortha removed a cigarette from its pack and had to will his fingers to keep them from trembling as he lit up.
"Tortha, you know me better than that. You're the one who talked me into taking over as your replacement! My duty to the force comes first, before everything. Yes, I admire Kalvan; he's taken the tiny Princedom of Hostigos and turned it into a first class outfit. Without any real help from me, I might add. And, as much as I admire and like Kalvan, Rylla, Ptosphes, Harmakros, and the rest; I have no desire to go native and throw away three hundred years of longevity just to live a simpler, more honest way of life."
The wistful tone Tortha heard in Vall's voice indicated to him that on some deeper mental level Verkan might be quite willing to do just that, but Tortha couldn't see that there was anything to be gained by picking at that particular scab. He'd just have to keep a closer eye on Verkan, try to help take some of the pressure off and then be ready to jump in whenever it appeared that the Chief's judgment was going awry.
"I'll accept that for now. How is Dalla's work with the Fourth Level Europo-American Study Group going?"
Verkan laughed. "To listen to my wife talk you'd think she'd been shut up in the Inner Circle at Balph and been forced to listen to one of Archpriest Roxthar's tirades for a year! She's not sure what's worse, listening to the representatives from Tharmax Trading and Consolidated Outtime Foodstuffs pleas for open 'trade' lines, or the University cliques talk of the inevitability of outtime social interests conflicts with Home Time Line politics until First Level civilization embraces the benefits of post-industrial socialism, or some such garbage."
"Good, it's going just about as we expected. As long as they keep arguing semantics and ideology they'll never get down to what the Study Group is all about, a full embargo on Fourth Level, Europo-American.
That will leave you and the Paratime Commission free to do what has to be done, if or when that time comes. Although, I want to tell you that I hope it never comes. Without a Code Red situation, or all out nuclear slugfest, shutting down Europo-American, it may not be politically feasible-"
"You, too, Tortha? I get enough of that from Dalla."
"Well, maybe in this case, it might not hurt to listen. We get a lot of everyday products from that Sector, for example, the Camel cigarettes I'm smoking.
"True, it would be inconvenient to relocate our sources of supply, but it could be done, Verkan answered. "I can't think of anything critical to First Level life or civilization that comes from there."
"In a strategic sense you're correct, but the Europo-American Sector has caught the public fancy-like nothing else this century. They're behind the flat screen film craze and are the suppliers of that hideous 'rock and roll' music that's been jamming the airwaves."
Verkan's eyebrows shot up. "The first time I heard that jangle of atonal sound waves, I thought I'd tuned into a cat fight."
"Verkan, just listen to yourself! You sound just like me: it must be that crazy horseshoe desk. Or the responsibility of protecting ten billion contrary Timeliners who don't always know their own best interests."
Verkan shook his head. "I don't know how you kept going for so long."
"Maybe because I thought I was doing really important work."
"That doesn't sound like you, Tortha. Getting tired of that Fifth Level rabbit farm in Sicily already?"
"Actually, it's been so dull there this past year I've taken to watching Fifth Level prole soap-operas."
Verkan shuddered in mock horror. "The only two things worse than prole soap-operas would be either attending an administrator's conference at Dhergabar University, or one of the Kalvan Study Team's argue-fests at the Royal Foundry in Hos-Hostigos."
Tortha laughed. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about a cover story for a trip to Kalvan Prime."
"That's a wonderful idea, Tortha. Kalvan and Rylla can use all the help they can get."
"Well, I'm not a military genius, or engineer-"
"I didn't mean that kind of help, Tortha. They need a good shoulder to lean on now, especially since Prince Ptosphes took a mortal wound at Tenabra."
"I didn't know he was shot?"
"Not that kind of wound-it's worse, he's stopped believing in himself. And that's the most terrible thing that can happen to a man like Ptosphes. There aren't a lot of people in Hostigos Kalvan can really talk with and you might be the best medicine he could get. I know how you've helped me over the years."
"Just my job, Vail." Tortha pulled a pack of Camels out of his pocket and reached for Verkan's tinderbox.
"We both know better. It wouldn't be wise to make you a Grefftscharrer merchant, too. Xiphlon's far enough away that no one in the Northern Kingdoms knows much about it, and it's in a bit of a bind. Another of those Aztec empires-the Zarthani call them the Mexicotal-that crops up on one Fourth Level time-line after another is trying to move their cannibalism racket into the Middle Kingdoms. Somebody's been selling them 'fireseed'-another local term for gunpowder-and last I checked they had some huge slave trains dragging these antiquated hundred and two hundred pound siege guns, old hooped iron bombards, to try and blast through the great walls. The Mexicotal are not familiar enough with gunpowder weapons to know that those stone balls will do about as much damage to the walls of Xiphlon as their ceremonial obsidian blades do on plate armor!
"Xiphlon, is one of the most 'civilized' cities in the northern hemisphere. The city reminds me of Byzantium on Fourth Level, Alexandria-Roman. Hugh outerworks and walls as thick as the Great Wall of China and almost as tall, made of quarry stone that must have been transported by river barges for a hundred years. Very sophisticated inhabitants, they've done it all, seen it all and know it all. The city has been besieged a number of times; they've got fresh water cisterns and provisions enough for a ten-year siege. Right now Xiphlon's biggest problem is all the trade and portage business they're losing. I wouldn't be surprised if, after the Mexicotal have picked up their pieces and gone home, the High King of Xiphlon doesn't hire Kalvan to take his army into Mexicotal and teach those heart-stabbers a thing or two about gunpowder diplomacy!"
Tortha blew a series of smoke rings. "Sounds like my kind of place. I'll make a covert visit to Xiphlon, first, so I can familiarize myself with the city layout and find a place to set up my cover story."
"Great idea. I'll get Kirv to send in a team to help you. After you leave, they'll stay behind and establish a deep cover. Fortunately, these Middle Kingdom merchants do more traveling than a Paratime Policeman."
Tortha smiled. "This sounds like fun. Do you know how long it's been since I went undercover outtime? No, don't even try to answer."
Verkan laughed loudly for the first time, Tortha could remember, since he'd become Paratime Chief of Police.