by Will Hubbell
"Why?" asked Rick.
"Because it was safe."
"Safe?"
"Manned time travel is banned in Sam's era, he wanted to go to someplace private."
"Then why go somewhere built by people from the fu-ture?"
"I don't think he had a lot of choices. From the little I know about it, navigating through time is mind-bogglingly complicated. I suspect this was one of the few places.he knew how to reach."
"I still don't understand why it would be safe."
"Sam never told me why. I can only speculate. Maybe it's off-limits. Maybe it no longer exists in the future. That seems more likely."
"Now you've really lost me."
"Time travel becomes illegal when people figure out that traveling downwhen can alter their own present. Af-ter that discovery, time exploration is only done covertly by unmanned probes. Sam knew visiting our time would change history, and I suspect that was the point. It's likely he also altered events to erase knowledge of this place in the future."
"If he did that," said Rick, "how could he know it still exists?"
"If Sam initiated the change, he'd be unaffected by it. What you do in the past only affects the future. He wouldn't be in the future when the change occurred."
"That's what Green told Greighton," said Rick. "That they could change the future with impunity. If that's true, what did Sam have to worry about? He could wipe his pursuers out of existence."
"I imagine a change of that magnitude would not be easy to pull off. Also, he'd have to worry about betraying his presence. Cause and effect gets very tricky in time travel. As soon as Sam appeared in our time, his presence made changes that could be detected in the future. All the clues of a person's whereabouts—hotel records, com-munications logs, all kinds of stuff—would instantly ap-pear upwhen."
"It would be like looking for a specific grain of sand on a beach," scoffed Rick.
"These people discovered time travel, Rick. Who knows what they're capable of? Sam did, and he was seriously worried about it. I imagine Greighton's unex-plained two-week absence will be a red flag to them."
"Two-week absence!" said Rick. "I was told this trip would take up only a few seconds in our own time."
"It's easy to see why Green wanted you to believe that, but it's not true. Something Sam called 'temporal link-age' prevents that."
"Temporal linkage? What's that?"
"It's really pretty simple," said Joe. "Imagine a target range inside a moving airplane where I've locked my gun on the bull's eye so I can hit it every time. I can do this because the gun and the target are moving together, linked by the aisle of the airplane. A temporal linkage works the same way, except the target and the gun are moving through time, not space. Sam set up the link to simplify navigating the time machine. Our own time and this time seem like fixed coordinates only because there's an inflexible connection between them. In practical terms, it means that if I spend three days in the past and want to return to my own time, I can only return to a time three days after I left. It works the same in reverse."
"Crap! I'll miss two exams!"
"Too bad. The two weeks we spend here will also pass in the twenty-first century. They're gone. Once a link's established, it determines which destinations are acces-sible."
"We're getting side tracked," said Rick. "How do you know all this? What's your involvement?"
"That's easy to explain," said Joe. "Green and Sam didn't trust each other. Green refused to come here unless he had his own pilot. I got mixed up in this because I was the guy Sam trained."
"So he trusted you."
"Hardly. I pieced together most of what I know from things he let slip. If he hadn't thought I was as dumb as a dog, he might have been more guarded. As far as trust-ing me—he taught me as little as possible. I only learned how to shuttle between Montana Isle and our time. Those are the only coordinates I have."
"Green spoke about 'gaps' in his knowledge'," said Rick. "That's what he must have meant."
"Fat chance of filling them," said Joe. "Ignorance sees easy solutions for all problems. Sam thought he could control Green by keeping him in the dark. In doing so, he underestimated Green's capacity for self-delusion. A fatal error, I suspect."
"You mean ..."
"Green decided Sam was unnecessary. One day Sam was gone and the time machine was still there," said Joe. "You do the math."
"And you work for him," said Rick with disgust.
"Yeah, I do," said Joe with resignation. "But not for long. Soon, I'll be free of him. Sam's people will see to that."
"I thought their hands were tied, that's what Green said."
"That's his ignorance talking. They'll get him, all right. They know they have to. That's why Sam was so anxious to hide out here. Our own time is much more accessible to them. Even as we speak, they're scanning history for clues . . . sending probes . . . employing tech-nologies we can't even imagine ... and on top of all that, they have time. They can take centuries to track down Green, then show up the instant he returns to our time."
The moonlight reflected off Joe's eyes as they bored into Rick's. "You don't have to stop Green," he said.
"Others will do that. All you have to do is bide your time." Joe continued studying Rick's face. "You'd like to believe me," he said, "but you're not sure you can."
"I believe you," said Rick.
"Ever play poker?"
"No."
"Good thing. You'd be lousy. I can read your face like a book."
Rick looked away. "You're not the first to say that."
"Soon as I saw you on the beach, I knew something was up. After that, it was only a matter of waiting for you to make your move."
"Why did you interfere?"
"If I thought you could have pulled it off, I probably wouldn't have stopped you."
"So, it was to save my life?" asked Rick dubiously.
"Not just yours. Once Green took care of you, he would have tidied up. Other people could get hurt."
"Including you."
"Me?" said Joe cynically. "I'm the only one that's safe. Green needs me. I'm his pilot." Rick was seized by a sudden sense of failure, that he had been called to face evil and had not measured up.
Joe read his downcast expression. "Don't be hard on yourself. Be proud you're not a killer," said Joe.
"Things will work out as long as Green doesn't get suspicious."
"How can I prevent that?"
"Stay out of his way and don't nose around. Stick close to Greighton's kid, too. Keep her happy, and you'll re-main useful to him. Green's still courting Greighton. He won't want to rock the boat."
"It all sounds so ... so cowardly," said Rick.
"Green's as good as caught the moment we get up-when. Be smart, and let Sam's people take care of him. You don't need to stick your neck out."
"Is that all?" asked Rick.
"Now you know everything," said Joe. "I wish you didn't. The less you knew, the safer you were. Don't do anything to tip off Green."
"I'll be careful."
Joe watched his words sink in. Green's right, he thought. This kid's too damned curious. 15
THE CHIRPING OF BIRDS HERALDED THE ONSET OF CON'S
favorite time of the day. She awoke to savor the landscape beyond the colonnade as it slowly came awake. The early-morning air was heavy with the smell of the sea and mag-nolias. It bathed her in fragrance as she lay on her bed, watching the soft blue light of dawn gradually brighten. Soon, pterosaurs added their less melodic cries to those of the birds. Before long, the first rays of the rising sun would strike the treetops.
Con enjoyed the calmness of morning. None of the on-coming day's irritants or problems need yet be faced. Daddy and Sara did not provoke her. The mysterious Peter Green remained forgotten. Rick's unsettling revelations were ig-nored. Con shut them all away while she recaptured the feel-ing of innocent delight she had experienced the first morning on the island.
Rick spoiled it by quietly emerging fro
m the trees. He stopped outside her room, and whispered, "Con." Con closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
"Con, are you awake?" whispered Rick more loudly.
Con remained still and waited for him to leave. Instead, she heard him enter the room. His hand softly shook her foot. "Con."
"What do you want?" she said, not bothering to hide her annoyance. She opened her eyes to see that Rick had re-treated a few steps.
"Con, would you do me a favor?"
"Did you have to come here to ask? Couldn't it have waited?"
"Sorry," said Rick. "I had to ask before the others got up." Con caught an anxious tone in Rick's voice. His face, also, had a disquietingly worried look to it. "What's going on?" she asked.
"I can't talk now. Just say you want to stay on the island today. Tell James you'd like me to take you fishing. Will you do that?"
"Why?"
Rick looked around nervously. "Please. I'll explain later."
"All right," said Con, somewhat grudgingly.
"Thanks," whispered Rick as he began a quick retreat from the room. Con remained in her bed. The dawn proceeded, but it no longer seemed tranquil. RICK WAS GLAD he had used an indirect return route to the staff compound when he encountered James making coffee. "You're up early," said James.
"I wanted to see the sunrise," said Rick.
"Thought you'd take a fancy to this place," replied James. "It reminds me of my boyhood. God, I loved dawn on the Serengeti."
"No seashore there," said Rick.
"No, but the feel's the same, a glimpse of the world before we ruined it." James poured himself a mug and sipped it as he contemplated. Rick helped himself and drank quietly, glad that James was not in a talkative mood.
James put his cup down and rose. "Guess I should see if our guests are stirring. What have you planned for to-day?"
"I thought we might follow the coast to the south."
"I'd like to go on one of your trips," said James, "after things settle down a bit."
"I'd love to have you," replied Rick. "The plains to the north should remind you a bit of Africa. No grass, though."
"None?"
"It hasn't evolved yet."
James shook his head as he strolled toward the guests' quarters. "Fancy that, no grass." A few minutes later, James returned to wake Pandit, and the routine of camp began in earnest. Rick tried to seem surprised when James returned from dining with the guests to tell him, "Miss Greighton desires to be taken fishing."
"There's a likely spot for hand lines at the far end of the island," said Rick. "The bottom drops off right be-yond the cliff."
"Good," said James. "Just make sure you throw her line out, I don't want her hooking herself." He turned to Joe. "It looks like you're on holiday today."
"I can live with that," said Joe with a smile.
"Just stay clear of the protected beach," warned James. "Mr. Greighton and Miss Boyton enjoy their privacy."
When James left to get the fishing gear, Joe turned to Rick. "I bet they enjoy their privacy," he said with a grin. Then in a lower voice, he asked, "Are you okay after last night?"
"Yeah," replied Rick. "Don't worry about me."
"Things will work out," assured Joe.
"Sure," replied Rick.
RICK WALKED ALONG the shore carrying a large picnic hamper in one hand and a cooler in the other. Con ac-companied him, carrying a small bag of fishing gear and bait.
"Why are we going fishing?" asked Con.
"I thought you might enjoy it," replied Rick.
"Don't give me that!" said Con testily. "That's not why you sneaked into my room this morning. Don't treat me like a child."
"I just need to get away from Joe."
"I thought you two were friends."
"We were . . . maybe we still are. I just need to sort things out."
"Why drag me along?"
"You know why," said Rick.
"Baby-sitting," said Con angrily, and she sat down on a rock.
"Con . . ."
"Tell me what's up."
"I don't think I should."
"You promised! Besides, you don't have a choice. I won't play along if you keep things from me." Rick hesitated, then sighed as if he were setting down a burden. "Last evening I overheard Green and your fa-ther talking. Green said he stole the time machine, and then he tried to get your father's help in some mad scheme to change history. It was like something out of science fiction, he actually said they'd conquer the world."
Con's face lit up, "That's wild!"
"This is serious. He's planning to wipe out our exis-tence in the process. He figures if he does that, the people who want the time machine back will be wiped out also."
"What did Daddy say?"
"I don't know what his answer was or even if he gave one. Green offered to share the riches of Europe." Con pondered Rick's story. Absurd as it sounded, it was easier to picture Green as an unscrupulous schemer than as a scientist. "He'll probably say no," she said with-out conviction. "I wish I could say for sure. But what does Joe have to do with this?"
"Last night, I was going to stop Green . . ."
"Stop him?"
"Kill him," said Rick.
Con gave him an astonished look, which grew as she saw he was serious.
"Joe intervened," continued Rick, "and said it wasn't necessary to do anything, that people from the future will stop Green."
"I'm glad he stopped you. I can't imagine you killing anyone."
"Neither could he," said Rick. "He said Green would have killed me first."
"This is too weird," said Con.
"That's my problem, too," said Rick. "Everything's so unbelievable. Should I buy Joe's story? I can see all sorts of alternatives."
"Well, he didn't tell Green."
"True," said Rick. "He could have easily shot me, too. I had no idea he was following me."
"I think he's telling the truth," said Con. "There's nothing to worry about."
"You're probably right," said Rick.
Con looked at him and knew he did not believe her. She picked up the fishing gear and started walking.
"Then let's go fishing. This is supposed to be my vacation!"
They walked in silence, while Con tried to think of something to distract Rick from his brooding. "I'll have a birthday in four days," she said. "When we return to our time three seconds after we left, will I be eighteen or not?"
"Eighteen," said Rick. "That instant vacation stuff was bull."
"What do you mean?"
"It was a lie. We'll arrive two weeks after we left. Joe told me last night."
"Daddy will be pissed."
"He probably doesn't know yet."
"I was planning to give him two chances to remember my birthday—one here and one when we got back. He usually forgets."
"Here, he has an excuse," said Rick. "How can you have a birthday when you won't be born for 65
million years?"
"Maybe I should stay here and remain young forever."
"You almost had your chance," said Rick. "Last night, I considered sabotaging the time machine."
"Oh God!" exclaimed Con. "Marooned with Sara and Daddy! What a thought!"
"Maybe she'd see him differently when he wasn't a billionaire."
Con laughed wickedly. "I'm sure she'd stop feeding him fruit. She might stop giving him other things as well."
"Maybe Pandit would have his chance," said Rick. "I know he's smitten. He's more her age, and he can cook."
"Perhaps she'd prefer a jungle guide," teased Con.
"No way!"
"I might claim you for myself. Are you a good pro-vider?"
"I could keep even you fed."
"Really?" answered Con. "Could you satisfy all my appetites?" She was amused when he blushed.
"We'll return to our time," said Rick, trying to change the conversation. "If Joe's right, we'll never see this place again."
"That bothers you, doesn't it?"
; "Yeah," said Rick with a note of dejection. "What a waste. Only you and James appreciate what's here."
"Maybe the people who built the time machine will let you come back."
"I doubt it. Joe says they might not even know this place is here."
"How's that possible?" asked Con.
"It has something to do with history being altered."
"That's so mysterious!" said Con. "Don't you find it exciting? I wonder what this place is for."
"I have no idea," admitted Rick.
"Aren't you the least bit curious? Maybe there's more to this island than we've seen. Like the symbols on my wall."
"I did see something ... a reflection on the top of the mesa."
"Let's go there and investigate!" said Con excitedly. "We can fish later."
"I don't know . . ."
"Where's your sense of adventure? You're supposed to be a guide. Guide me!"
"I'm supposed to keep you safe."
"Come on! I'm going, whether you do or not!"
Rick put down the cooler and the picnic hamper. "Are you always this headstrong?" he asked.
"Always."
Although the walls of the mesa rose precipitously where the stone rooms were located, on this end of the island they sloped, albeit steeply. The way was difficult, and much of the rock was loose. Con, who was wearing flimsy rubber beach thongs, had a difficult time.
"Maybe we should turn around," suggested Rick. "James would kill me if he knew I was taking you up here."
"Stop worrying about James," retorted Con. "How are we going to get up that cliff?" Above the rocky slope, the last forty feet of the mesa rose as a vertical wall. As they approached the cliff, Rick looked for a route to the top. When they reached its base, it still appeared unclimbable. "Why don't you rest here," said Rick, "while I look for a way up." Con said nothing, but sat down on a rock. Rick scrambled along the base of the cliff, examining it with the eyes of a seasoned climber. He found a number of routes to the top he might attempt if he were properly equipped with climbing shoes, a rope, carabiners, and pitons, but nothing he felt secure freeclimbing in street shoes. Finally, about fifty yards from where Con sat, he discovered a fissure in the cliff. He stepped inside it. Its parallel sides were about three feet apart and rose straight up, forming what climb-ers call a "chimney." When he exited the fissure, he saw Con walking toward him. "Any luck?" she called out.