Cretaceous Sea

dressed. James was pouring himself a cup when Rick emerged from the tent.

'You seem chipper for keeping such late hours,' remarked James.

'Con's going on a tour. I need to set up lunch. I plan to have her out most of the day.' James's lips formed a slight smile. 'So Miss Greighton is 'Con' now?'

'We worked things out last night.'

'I suspected you had the makings of a guide. It seems that I was right.' Rick beamed and poured himself a mug of coffee. He took a sip and was glad it was strong.

'I trust 'Con' will not be wandering off this morning?'

'I'm sure she'll sleep in. We were up late watching sea turtles lay their eggs.'

'Turtle eggs? You should inform Pandit. I'm sure he would welcome the challenge.' Rick shook his head. 'Everything's a potential meal to him.'

'The man's an artist,' replied James. 'He's not going to be happy until you bring him a dinosaur to cook.'

'I suspect you're right.'

'I am,' said James with assurance.

Rick finished his coffee and stood up. 'I thought I'd carry that bottled water Con drinks up to the plane.'

'I'll rouse Pandit and get him started on your lunch,' said James. 'Then you can leave whenever Miss Greighton de- sires.'

'That would be great,' said Rick. 'Please be sure he makes a lot. She's a big eater.' Rick grabbed a small cooler and walked over to the camp's refrigerator. He removed two bottles of water. As he did, he couldn't help think what a waste of energy and cargo space these bottles of lemon-flavored water represented. He shut the top of the cooler and headed up the path to the plane. That was easy, Rick thought. He expected James to ques-tion his errand, since the bottles could have just as easily accompanied the lunch. Probably he's so relieved we're go-ing, he doesn't care. When he reached the plane, a door formed in its side for him, just as Joe had set it to do. Rick deposited the cooler inside the plane, then turned to the real purpose of his visit.

Fishing out a hand lens from his pocket, Rick walked over to the boulder Joe had sliced with the gun the day before. He carefully examined the newly cut surface through the magnifier. It bore scoring that precisely matched that on the walls of the stone rooms. Rick was certain the technology employed in the guns had also been used to make the rooms in the cliff. Yet, by solving this mystery, Rick had uncovered a far greater one.

Joe's statement that Green had found, not built, the stone rooms made even less sense now. Why would he say that? wondered Rick. Green clearly had the means to construct them. There was only one logical answer—it had not oc-curred to Joe that guns had carved the stone rooms. Yet how could that be, if Green had invented the guns? Rick pondered the implications of that question. All the technology on Mon-tana Isle was interconnected. The guns were charged by the same black solar panels on the plane, the same panels on the time machine. Green must have invented the guns, other-wise—a disconcerting thought came to Rick— He hadn't in-vented anything!

Rick was taken aback by where his logic was leading. It's just a hypothesis, he reminded himself. The cut boulder is no proof. Perhaps, once Green invented the guns, other peo-ple developed the technology for different uses. Such people could have made the rooms for Green to find. With time travel, chronology was flexible; the future could affect the past.

Rick was beginning to take comfort in this new line of thinking when he looked into the clear portion of the plane. The bits of plastic tape on the control panel caught his eye. Instantly, he realized that the tape labels might provide a clue to the plane's origin. He entered the plane and, with a grow-ing sense of apprehension, approached the control panel. The makeshift labels seemed particularly incongruous on its fin-ished surface. With a trembling finger, Rick lifted up a corner of a label. As he feared, there was something underneath, integral to the panel's surface. It was probably a word, al-though Rick recognized neither the language nor the alpha-bet.

How could I be so dumb? Rick asked himself. None of this is twenty-first- century technology! It seemed so plain to him now, he was dismayed that he had ever been fooled. No wonder Tom found no mention of Peter Green. On further introspection, Rick saw why he had been so easily deceived. His only concern had been whether time travel was real. He hadn't truly cared where the technology came from. Should I care now? That was, indeed, the question. Regardless of how he had gotten there, he was in die Cretaceous. He had seen living dinosaurs. He would see more. Isn't that enough? Rick carefully pushed the corner of the label back down on the panel. / should return to camp and see if Con is up. There were still details to check to ensure her first trip ran smoothly. Stick to my job, he told himself. Rick walked back to camp trying to focus his thoughts on the day's explora-tions. Again and again, he reminded himself that the time machine was Green's business, not his. By the time he reached camp, he was almost convinced that it was true.

JOE LOOKED UP from his coffee and flashed Rick a broad smile. 'I hear you've arranged for a passenger. Good job!'