Cretaceous Sea

'What kind of help are you looking for?'

'Scientific expertise, the kind a big corporate research di-vision has. The best brains working in absolute secrecy.'

'And why do you need that? You've already got the ma-chine.'

'The 'source' of this machine kept secrets from me about its operation. There are gaps in my knowledge that need to be filled before we can put our plans into operation.'

'So it's 'our plans' now,' said Greighton in a cynical tone. 'Maybe you should tell me what 'our plans'

are.'

'Simply put—to change history in our favor.'

'And the people from the future—they'll stand by while we do this?' Greighton asked skeptically.

'They'll want to stop us,' admitted Green. 'But they have problems we don't. First, they have to find us. Then they have an even bigger problem. They can't just kick in doors, guns blazing. If they did so, they'd alter their own past. Al-tering their past means changing their present. They are in a very delicate position. If we act quickly and secretly ...'

'Wait, wait,' interrupted Greighton. 'You're proposing to alter our own past! We're in the same boat they are. I happen to know where my great-great-great grandmother found gold, but if I go back to the nineteenth century and jump her claim, I'll return to my century to find the family fortune gone!'

' If you came back, that might be true. But if you stayed in her century, your future would unfold from that point. You could kill the bitch if you wanted. You wouldn't suddenly disappear. Her present would be your present.'

'You're talking about a one-way trip to the past. Why would I want to do that?'

'Two reasons. First, it would be a preemptive strike against the future. The people trying to recover the time ma- chine would no longer exist. That brings me to the second reason—the real reason. They wouldn't exist because we'll have completely changed the world. We'll have conquered it!'

'Conquer the world?' said Greighton in an almost mock-ing tone. 'Come on, that sounds crazy!'

'You can object to my wording, but listen to my plan. We arrive in colonial America in a fleet of time machines. We have modern medicine, weaponry, and communications, we have a complete library of technology, we know where every undiscovered natural resource is located, and, best of all, we own a map of history. The people speak English, they're literate, and they're used to rule by kings. They will flock to us!'

'What if they don't? There was an American Revolution after all.'

'Smallpox ... cholera... Ebola virus. We'll be vacci-nated, they won't. Who needs armies with that?'

'It'd look like the hand of God,' said Greighton.

'It would be the hand of God! We'll found a state that will overwhelm the world!'

'And what would I get for my help?'

'The vineyards of France ... the treasures of Italy ...

whatever you want. I'm not a greedy man. My gratitude would be generously shown.'

'And if I refuse?' said Greighton.

'I'll find someone else. He help me rewrite history. Then, one day, you and your world will cease to exist.'

'You don't seem to offer me a choice.'

'Only opportunities, John. Only opportunities.'

Rick had heard enough. Whether Greighton accepted Green's offer was ultimately irrelevant, and to listen further increased his risk of getting caught. He had an idea of how dangerous that might be. Quickly, but cautiously, he sneaked away.

John Greighton left Green's quarters about a half an hour later. The sunset had painted the sky a brilliant orange, but he was oblivious to it. In his hand was the bottle of cognac, a parting gift. He removed its cut crystal stopper.