Cretaceous Sea

'News travels fast, I see,' said Rick. 'Heck, I thought I was doing my job. What happened here?'

'Miss Greighton was moody today.'

'That's all? Green nearly snapped my head off.'

'Miss Greighton's mood irritates her father, and Mr. Green is most displeased by this.'

' 'Displeased' is an understatement,' said Rick. 'But you seem jolly enough.'

'One finds moments for bliss.' Pandit looked up the path leading to the kitchen tent, and said in a whisper, 'Here comes one now.'

Rick heard footsteps on the path and turned to see Sara part the screening of the tent. She was carrying an empty bowl. Her attire immediately caught Rick's attention. She wore a white pleated dress that reminded him of the clinging dresses in ancient Egyptian frescoes. It was gathered at the waist by a simple gold belt that matched her delicate gold sandals. These were but accessories; the principal adornment of the dress was Sara herself. Her finely sculpted body was clearly visible through the trans-lucent fabric. Pandit froze where he stood, unable to glance away. Sara smiled slightly and, looking him in the eye, acknowledged his adoration.

'We'd like more fruit,' she said, handing him the bowl. Without removing his gaze from Sara, Pandit filled the bowl with strawberries, grapes, and cherries. She took it, leaned forward and, in a breathy voice that smelled of wine, murmured, 'Thanks.' Then she turned and strolled down the path as if she were modeling on a runway.

'That woman requires prodigious quantities of fruit,' said Pandit. 'I wonder what she does with it.'

'Whatever it is,' replied Rick, 'it hasn't spoiled her figure.' Pandit nodded appreciatively. 'Oh, to be rich!' he cried. 'That woman is a goddess! She is supernatural!'

'I believe the word is 'artificial,' ' replied Rick dryly.

'Is not the point of existence to strive for perfection?'

'I'd hardly call her perfect.'

'Of course,' said Pandit. 'As a naturalist, you prefer Miss Greighton. A natural beauty.' Rick grimaced at the idea. 'She's hardly my type.'

'Then you are a hard man to please.'

'I'm more concerned with pleasing Mr. Green. He told me to help you with dinner.'

'Do you know how to reduce a sauce?'

'No,' replied Rick. 'My specialty is Warming up pouches.'

'I thought as much. You can cut up the tomatoes for the ragout.'

'Where are they?'

'Right in front of you,' replied Pandit, pointing to some large globes surrounded by papery green husks.

'These are wild tomatoes. I picked them this morning.'

Rick picked up one of the tomatoes and examined it. It resembled the tiny tomatilloes Tom used to make salsa verde. This fruit was much larger than those; it was big even for a tomato. He peeled back the husk to reveal a deep red skin. 'Pandit, tomatoes are cultivated plants, they don't grow wild.'

'They do here,' said Pandit. 'There are several tomato trees growing on the other side of the island. They pro-duce the finest tomatoes I have ever tasted. There are fruits and berries also. Mr. Neville is correct, this place is truly Eden.'

Rick peeled away the husk from the tomato and bit into it. Pandit was right—the flavor was exquisite. Then he examined the tomato as a scientist. Although the fruit seemed perfectly ripe, the seeds were immature—in fact— they appeared vestigial. This is no wild plant. He suspected it was genetically engineered. Another artifact from the builders of the stone rooms?

Rick made himself as useful as he could, while Pandit cooked with efficient artistry. Before long, the first course was ready to serve. Pandit sent Rick to inform James. Once Rick accomplished that task, he returned to the kitchen tent to help serve the meal.