, he thought. He was the pos-sessor of a complete, unfossilized dinosaur skull and a set of limbs, also—the first, he was certain, of many ex-traordinary specimens. Everything else paled in signifi-cance. The festive mood of the dining pavilion was reflected at the staff dinner. Green's good disposition had affected his subordinates. James was particularly happy with the way things were going. He produced a bottle of cham-pagne, declaring, "All of you deserve a toast." He poured the wine into plastic cups and passed them around. Then he stood and raised his cup high. "To a fine beginning!" When everyone sipped the champagne, James offered a second toast. "To Rick and his taming of a difficult client."
Joe emptied his cup, then said with a grin, "I'd say the Greighton girl's tamed him."
"What do you mean?" asked Pandit.
"On today's trip back to the island," said Joe, "I thought I detected infatuation." James looked at Rick's crimson face, and said, "We don't need a romance complicating things."
"There's no romance," said Rick quickly. "I admire her ... her daring."
"There," said Joe, "you heard him say it—he's her ad-mirer."
"I'm her guide," said Rick, speaking more to James than to Joe. "She's interested in going on tours. The only client who is, I might add. That's all there is to it."
Joe turned to James. "I was just ragging him. Rick's more interested in wildlife than women."
"I'm glad to hear it," said James.
As dinner commenced, it quickly became apparent why there was so much leftover dinosaur. While his staff picked at their food, James refilled their cups and re-sumed his cheerful tone. "If things continue to run smoothly," he said, "we'll have a proper safari operation in no time. More staff, proper equipment..."
"Proper food?" asked Joe. "Rick, can't you shoot something that tastes more like chicken?"
"That dish was a severe test," admitted Pandit.
"To bad you got an V on it," quipped Joe.
"I think a herbivore might be more palatable," said Rick. "Perhaps a Hypsilophodontid."
"I prefer food I can pronounce," said Joe.
"I brought some fishing gear," James said. "Just hand lines, because of the weight limitations. Perhaps we could try some seafood."
"An excellent idea," said Pandit.
"Here," said Joe, pushing his plate forward. "You can use this for bait." James, who had already eaten, went to check on the guests. When he returned, he said to Pandit,
"Please get out the best cognac and two snifters and take them to Mr. Green's quarters." Pandit left his dinner to get a crystal decanter and two large bulbous glasses.
"I'm done eating," said Rick. "I can run it over."
He found Peter Green and John Greighton sitting in wicker chairs, finishing off their wine.
"Here we are, John," said Green, "one of the rarest and the finest." Rick set down the decanter and the two snifters. Though he disliked playing the servant, he asked, "Do you need anything else?"
"Pull the curtain," said Green.
Rick pulled the curtain as he left. He was about to return to the staff tent when two small pterosaurs alighted not ten feet from where he stood. They were behaving oddly, and Rick stopped to watch them. One of the pter-osaurs assumed the usual quadrupedal stance, but the other reared up to balance awkwardly on its hind feet. While it was upright, the pterosaur puffed out a pouch in its neck like a small balloon. It pranced about for a few seconds in this posture, then dropped to a normal stance, rested, and repeated the display. Rick thought he might be witnessing courtship behavior. He assumed the pter-osaur with the pouch was the male and wondered how the female might respond. He remained still to find out. The two pterosaurs performed their ritual in silence; the only sound was Peter Green's and John Greighton's con-versation from the other side of the curtain.
"... 2047, that was a good year, and not just for cham-pagne ..."
Snob talk, thought Rick absentmindedly. He focused on the pterosaurs ignoring the drone of talk until a deri-sive laugh caught his attention. "Twenty-nine?" said Greighton's voice in a condescending tone.
"Where's your taste? All that stuff was crap."
"Not 2029," responded Green's voice, "I mean 1929."
"Expensive vinegar," sniffed Greighton, "if it even ex-ists."
"Oh it exists, all right," said Green. "In the year 1929. That's when I'd stock up—at bargain-basement prices."
"You'd use your time machine to buy wine?" Greigh-ton's voice sounded incredulous. Rick forgot the pterosaurs and focused on the voices behind the curtain.
"I was just using wine as an example. Buying stock would be more worthwhile. Eastman Kodak in the 1890s... Microsoft in the 1980s ... Biofab in the 2020s ..."
"Have you done this?" asked Greighton, sounding in-trigued.
"If I had, you wouldn't be sitting here. I'd own every-thing worth having in your portfolio. I'd be the billionaire and you ... you couldn't even afford the fare to this place."
"Why are you telling me this?" asked Greighton in a cold voice. "Are you threatening me?"
"No, no, not at all. On the contrary, I have an offer for you."
Rick quietly moved to a less conspicuous position.
"I've proven that I have a working time machine," contin-ued Green. "With such a machine, history is a treasure map. There are no gambles, only sure bets."
"Go on," said Greighton, sounding interested.
"But there are some difficulties. With your help, they'll be easily overcome."
"What kind of difficulties?"
"I'm going to trust you with a secret," said Green in a conspiratorial tone. "I didn't invent the time machine. I ac-quired it."
"From whom?"
"A party from the future."
"Are you telling me that they simply gave you a time machine?"
"The acquisition was more in the nature of a hostile take-over."
"I see," said Greighton.
"I'm not a man to miss an opportunity," replied Green. "I suspect you're not either. Am I right?"
"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?"