"Well, I understand that danger," Margo sniffed, "and I remember seeing TV shows about those poor old couple who killed themselves. But what's this stuff about if you visit some other terminal or the wrong gate?"

"We're not just trying to scare you off," Kit said quietly. "The temporal position of any station, in its relation to absolute time, is different from any other station's temporal position. Terminals 17 and 56 are absolutely deadly to anyone on Shangri-la. If I tried to visit TT-56, I'd accidentally emerge into last week, when I was very much present at Shangri-la Station, which is currently..."

He checked the chronometer built into his personal log. "Which is currently April 28,1910, 22:01:17, locale. Tibetan-time zone. Time guides have to be careful, too."

Malcolm nodded. "It's why we guides tend to specialize in tours through Just a handful of gates leading out of one terminal. I could go to one of the other terminals and look for a scouting job, but I'd have to do careful homework first to be sure which terminals and which tours were safe for me. The Denver and London gates here in La-La Land can be just as deadly. The Denver gate is currently opening into 1885, the London gate into 1888. If I try to take a tourist to Denver during the same week I'd already taken someone else to London three years previously..." He shrugged. "I'd accidentally kill myself. So we keep damned good records of where and when we've been. That little credit card you were issued when you bought your Primary Gate ticket? The one they encoded for you before you came down time? When tourists use the gates, their Timecards are encoded-in both directions-going down time and coming back-so they have a record of when they've been. If the computer catches an overlap, it sounds an alarm."

Margo's eyes were beginning to take on a glazed look.

"Careful as the precautions are," Kit added grimly, "there are still accidents, even with the tourists. Time scouts have to be paranoid about it For instance, I could only visit TT-17 if I went up time and stayed for at least a year. TT-17's always twelve months and six hours behind this one, same geographical zone, about a thousand miles north of here. If I went through TT-17's Primary without letting it "catch up" and pass by my last exit from TT-86, I'd never live to see the other side."

Malcolm said, "There have even been organized-crime murders committed that way, particularly yakuza killings. They select a victim, get them to take out a huge insurance policy naming a gang member as beneficiary, treat them to an Edo Castletown tour out of Shangri-la on a false ID, then some other gang member takes them to Terminal 56 on their own ID, so they shadow themselves in front of witnesses. Instant profit."

Margo shivered. "Okay. I think I get it."

"Now that you've been here, you'll have the same problem. The longer you stay, the greater the chance of overlap. The more gates you step through, the more complicated the whole mess becomes. That's why the log is essential."

Margo rested her elbows on the table. "Okay, point taken. We have to be careful. But I still say you can get run over by a bus, not paying attention. What's the other thing for?"

Kit sat back in his chair. Was she being flippant to hide fear? Or was she just that silly? Or that stubborn? He wondered how often she'd gotten what she wanted just by smiling that enchanting smile or by coming back with a wisecrack that set people to chuckling. Just what sort of life had Margo known before hunting him up? Given her prickly defenses and that over-sharp tongue; Kit wasn't too sure he wanted an answer.

"It's an ATLS. Absolute Time Locator System. That `gizmo' you mentioned reading about. It works on a combination of geo-magnetic sensors and star-charting systems. The ATLS places you more or less exactly in time and geographic location, relative to absolute Greenwich time."

"More or less?" Margo echoed. "Isn't it precise?"

"Scouts always fudge by at least twenty-four hours in both directions when using the ATLS, just to be sure. Most of us build an even larger safety margin in, because as good as the ATLS is, it isn't absolutely precise. It can't be. Our lives are riding on how closely we cut it. Without it-and the personal log-we couldn't function at all. Even time touring would be impossible, because the tour companies need scouts to push new tour routes. The ATLSs casing gives it the same kind of protection your personal log has."

Margo was frowning at the ATLS. "If it's so dangerous to step through, why not just put the ATLS on a long pole and shove that through, then let it do its thing?

That way nobody'd ever have to risk going `poof'."

Kit shook his head. "It isn't that simple. For one, you have only a fifty-fifty chance of a gate opening at night. If it opens during the day, you can't take a star fix, so the long pole idea would be useless. Or it might be a cloudy night no stars. We could roboticize the whole thing, I suppose, and send it through to take the proper magnetic and star-fix readings, but it would cost a ton of money for each robot and there are thousands of unexplored gates with new ones opening all the time. Anything could still go wrong and recovering the robot might prove impossible. Frankly, human scouts are cheaper, more reliable, and have the advantage of being able to gather detailed social data no robot could. That's important particularly when scholarly research or potential time touring is involved.

"We," he tapped his breast bone, "are expendable. We're independent businessmen, on nobody's payroll. No insurance company in the world will touch us, not even Lloyd's of London. That's another downside to scouting. No health coverage, no life insurance, no disability policies. You sign on for this job, you take your chances. There is a guild, if you care to pay the dues, but the treasury's almost always empty. Time scouts tend to suffer catastrophic illnesses and injuries with depressing frequency. I hope," he added grimly, "that you have a high pain threshold and don't faint at the sight of blood-yours or anyone else's."

Margo didn't answer. But her chin came up a stubborn notch, despite sudden pallor beneath already fair skin.

Kit sat back. "Huh. I'll give you credit for guts, girl. All right, let me show you how these operate."

He and Malcolm took her step by step through the operation of both machines, although they couldn't shoot a star-fix from inside La-La Land The personal log she caught onto fairly quickly. The ATLS' geo-magnetic sensors gave her trouble.

"No, you're plotting that reading backwards, Margo. You've just put yourself half a continent off target, which means you've Just calculated the time zone completely wrong, as well. Run it again."

"I hate math!" Margo snapped "How was I supposed to know I'd need all this crap?"

Malcolm visibly suppressed a wince. Very gently, Kit took the ATLS from her. "All right. We'll begin by having you hone up on basic skills. I'll schedule study times for you in the library. And not just for remedial math. You'll need language skills, historical studies, costuming and customs, sociological structures..."

Margo was looking at him in wide-eyed horror.

"Let me guess," Kit said drolly. "You thought time scouting was a way to avoid college?"

She didn't answer, but he could read it in her eyes.

"Kid, if you want to be a time scout, the first thing you have to become is a scholar. Scouts are a rough and ready bunch-we have to be-but most of us started life as historians or classics professors or philosophers or anthropologists. We're the best-educated bunch of roughnecks this side of eternity."

Malcolm laughed. "I have a Ph.D. in Roman antiquities."

Margo sat back and crossed her arms. "This is maddening. If I'd wanted a Ph.D., I've have gone to school. All I want to do is explore neat places!"