Time Loves a Hero by Allen Steele Page B

expedition, Sanchez had peppered his team with dozens of inquiries, and that had only been a Class-3 survey. This trip was not only more dangerous, it was also far more complex. Two timeships working in tandem, with the extraction of two contemporaries from a potentially hostile environment and replacing them with two researchers who would be in situ during a major disaster … any one of several dozen things could go wrong at any time. Not only that, but once he and Lea were aboard the Hindenburg and it was in flight, there was no way the mission could be aborted.
    Nonetheless, Sanchez seemed to be accepting their prognosis at face value. Was the Commissioner becoming complacent? Or, as the thought suddenly occurred to Franc, was he preoccupied with some other matter?
    He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lea do the same. The mimosaur stood up in Sanchez’s lap, yawned and stretched in an oddly feline way, then hopped upon the warm surface of a data unit and curled up to take a nap. After a while, Sanchez grunted with what might have been satisfaction and rotated his chair to face them.
    â€œYour preliminary report appears to cover all the foreseeable factors,” he said, “and as you probably expect, I have quite a few questions to ask. But there’s something I’d like to bring to your attention first … an incident that occurred during our last expedition.”
    â€œThe last expedition?” Franc glanced at Lea, then back at Sanchez. “If you mean the C320-29, we didn’t …”
    â€œNo, no.” Sanchez shook his head. “The C320-29 was flawless. If it hadn’t gone well, I would have never approved of the proposal for C120-37.” He smiled slightly. “And, yes, Dr. Lu, if this expedition is successful and your team delivers useful new information, I’ll consider taking your proposal for the C120-12 to the Board.”
    Franc took a deep breath. The C120-12 was his dream mission: an expedition to Southampton, England, in 1912 to place two or more researchers aboard the HMS Titanic before it embarked upon its doomed Atlantic crossing. Within the CRC, this was widely considered to be the Mt. Everest of historical surveys, mainly because of the extraordinary risks it presented. In many ways, the C120-37 was a rehearsal for the C120-12; if he and Lea could prove that two CRC researchers could record the Hindenburg disaster and survive, then putting historians aboard the Titanic would be considered feasible.
    â€œThank you, sir,” he said. “I appreciate your support.”
    â€œThat’s beside the point. I’m referring to the last expedition. The one which returned last week.” He peered at him through the bars of his desk. “The C314-65. The Miranda expedition to New Mexico. You haven’t studied the final report?”
    He knew about the mission to which Sanchez was referring, but he was embarrassed to admit that he hadn’t been keeping track of it. Lea stepped in to save him. “Many apologies, sir,” she said. “We were so involved with our own work, we didn’t have a chance to …”
    â€œNot acceptable, Dr. Oschner. All researchers are required to read reports from previous expeditions. The objectives may be different, but there’s much to learned from …” Sanchez sighed, looked away. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I should know better. Thirteenth-century North American history isn’t your area, and you’ve been preoccupied with the C120-37.” Then he looked back at them. “You say you haven’t spoken with Hans Brech? He was the Miranda ’s pilot for that mission, and for your own as well.” He hesitated. “By the way, Vasili Metz will be your pilot on the Oberon . Any objections?”
    Franc pursed his lips and hoped that Sanchez wouldn’t pick up on his distaste for Metz. He was a good timeship pilot—one of