Rick pressed the button, and the trigger and the lights ap-peared.
'The line of red lights indicates your charge,' continued Joe. 'The yellow lights show the power setting, I'll explain that latter. The blue lights show your ammunition level. The fewer the lights, the lower the reading. Now look in the scope. See that yellow circle and a red dot in the center?' Rick looked and nodded.
'Fix that dot on something,' said Joe, 'and pull the trig-ger.' Rick located the dot on a tree trunk and pulled the trigger. The dot started blinking and the gun immediately felt differ-ent in his hands. Rick looked up from the scope to see if Joe had gripped the gun's barrel. He hadn't.
'Try to move the gun,' said Joe.
Rick complied. Some force kept the weapon pointed at the tree.
'Didn't I say it almost shoots itself?' said Joe, grinning at Rick's startled look. 'Pull the trigger again.' Rick did so and the force gripping his weapon relaxed instantly. 'What does this thing shoot?' he asked.
'Laser beams?'
Joe pulled a lever on his gun. The rear cover of the cyl-inder popped open and a clear tube slid partly out. He re- moved the tube and handed it to Rick. It felt very heavy for its size. Rick examined it and saw it was filled with what appeared to be loose, metallic-colored sand.
'It shoots that silvery stuff,' said Joe.
'Just sand?' said Rick incredulously.
'Just sand? You watch.' Joe took the tube, inserted it into his gun, then flicked another lever. A trigger formed in front of the rear grip. 'That was the safety,' he explained. He sighted through the scope and aimed at a small pine tree. After pulling the trigger on the forward grip, he stopped aim-ing. The weapon remained pointed at a tree. Joe squeezed the rear trigger. The gun did not recoil, and the loud 'crack' Rick heard seemed to come not from the barrel opening, but from several feet in front of it. The upper portion of the tree disintegrated into a powdery mist. The gun stopped pointing at its vaporized target.
'Damn!' exclaimed Rick.
'That's just one of its tricks,' said Joe. He made some adjustments on the gun, then aimed at a boulder. This time, Joe kept his eye on the scope and moved the gun slightly as he pulled the rear trigger. There was a sharp hiss, and a thin, glowing line appeared near the top of the boulder. Rick ap-proached for a closer look.
'Don't touch it!' said Joe. 'It's hot.' He picked up a rock and used it as a hot pad to push the boulder. Its top slid back. The rock had been neatly sliced through. Rick immediately understood how the pathway had been carved.
'I'll show you the rest of the controls, then you can prac-tice a little before we head out,' said Joe. 'The hardest part is getting down which trigger's which. You don't want to confuse them in a tight spot.'
'Been in any tight spots?'
Joe smiled ruefully. 'Plenty.' Then he added, 'But none here.' Joe demonstrated how to adjust the force and the width of the blast, how to fire single shots, controlled bursts, or con-tinuously, and how to use the targeting system. Rick was amazed to learn that the gun could also track a moving target. Joe answered all of Rick's questions except those about the weapon's technology. Those he tersely rebuffed by saying, 'proprietary information.' The instruction and following practice lasted much longer than Rick wished. He was impatient to be off. Eventually, Joe was satisfied with Rick's marksmanship and took his gun. Joe entered the plane, followed by Rick. Joe set the guns in their charging stations before taking his seat behind the control panel. Rick looked at the panel. The controls, like those in the time machine, were labeled with plastic tape.
'Grab any seat,' said Joe.
Rick sat behind Joe so they could talk easily. Except for floating in air, the seat was identical to the ones in the time machine. Joe flicked a switch, and the control panel lit up. Simultaneously, Rick's seat grasped him. 'Here we go,' said Joe.
There was no sound of engines revving, just a noise like wind. Dust and bits of gravel flew up from the landing plat- form as if blasted by jets. Rick noticed that any debris that landed on the plane flowed off like water on greased metal. The sound of the wind increased, and the plane began to rise straight up. The clear fuselage offered a perfect view of the beach and the sea beyond. As they gained altitude, the view expanded. Rick could see the drowned landscape of the sea's depths and shallows. Its larger denizens were visible also. A plesi-osaur gracefully glided through a submerged ravine. Three immense ammonites, probably several feet in diameter, hung suspended in the clear water. They rose just below the top of the island's mesa; then, Joe touched the controls, and the plane halted its ascent. For a moment, it remained still while the silver tips at the end of the plane's stubby wings expanded outwards until they formed the long, graceful wings of a glider. With another touch of Joe's hand on the panel, the plane soared forward. The floating seats compensated for the plane's every move-ment.
This technological marvel was lost on Rick. His thoughts were elsewhere. He was in a state of absolute bliss, barely able to contain his excitement. He was about to live his wild-est fantasy. He was going to explore the past.
