Saphothere merely glanced at him then squatted down and took from his pack a device that looked like a mobile phone fashioned of perspex, before being heated then twisted out of shape.
âYour comlink?' Tack asked.
âNo, my comlink is very similar to yours, though embedded in the bone behind my ear and with a subvocal transmitter linked into the temporal lobe of my brain.'
Tack reached up and touched his own ear stud. His comlink was solar-powered, so was necessarily external to his body. It operated by bone-induction, so any communication he received only he could hear, but any reply he made had to be spoken out loud in order to be picked up. He supposed he should be grateful this device had not been torn out of his ear lobe, considering all that had recently happened to him.
Saphothere opened out his phonelike device to expose two twisted screens, the lower of which switched on to show shifting virtual controls. He continued, âThe defences of Sauros block external comlink communications because of the possibility of computer viral attack. Thisâ' he held up the deviceââis an encoded tachyon transmitter imprinted to me. If anyone but me tries to
operate it, they'd find themselves getting turned inside out through a vorpal singularity. The result is not pretty.' His fingers followed the virtual controls, and the upper screen lit to show someone's face. Saphothere addressed the face in the same language used by Coptic and Meelan, then he snapped the device shut.
âWhat now?' Tack asked.
âNow we wait, if our friends over there allow us the opportunity.'
Saphothere pointed somewhere behind Tack, before returning the tachyon communicator to his pack. Whirling round, Tack saw three creatures approaching through the low vegetation, some hundred metres away. As these slim-boned dinosaurs moved, heads and tails extended horizontally, they stood no higher than a man's waist, but every now and again they stopped to peer about them, raising their heads much higher. Their precise movements were reminiscent of herons, but their long hind legs were built for speed, their foreclaws for ripping apart living flesh, and though their heads were narrow and ophidian, they possessed mouths large enough to swallow the lumps they might rip from their prey.
âDon't tell me,' said Tack, remembering an interminable film series on dinosaurs. âVelociraptors?'
âWrong. The name for these in your own time is troodon, or wounding tooth. Velociraptors are quite smallish feather-covered egg thieves, so they would avoid us. Hopefully these will too, as they usually go for smaller prey.'
âAnd if they don't?' Tack aimed his seeker gun at one of the advancing creatures, but the gun refused to acquireâits template being for human recognition only. Tack lowered it again and punched in the code to set a blank template. Flipping up the square sight he aimed at the leading one. A small grid flicked up in the square and froze the creature's image, which told him that the template had been established and his target acquired. He then acquired each of the other two creatures in turn. Saphothere watched him with paternal amusement.
âI never scanned that weapon of yours,' he admitted. âHow does the round guide itself into the target?'
âThe initial charge fires a cased round,' said Tack. âThe case is dropped when quite close to the target, then the explosive shell opens wings powered by synthemuscle. The target template is uploaded to a micromind in the shellârunning a program that is a direct transcription from the mind of a wasp attacking a human.'
âInteresting,' said Saphothere, then raised his own little gun and pointed it
at the vegetation between themselves and the approaching troodon. The weapon emitted a muzzle flash like that of a machine gun firing in darkness. Involuntarily, Tack staggered back, blinking away after-images, as a swathe of vegetation a couple of metres wide ignited as if soaked in petrol. Squawking and cawing, the hunting dinosaurs turned tail and ran.
Quickly holstering his weapon, Saphothere nodded towards Tack's seeker gun. âYou see, such surgical precision was not really required.'
Feeling foolish, Tack returned his weapon to its holster and, following the direction of Saphothere's gaze, spotted an object approaching at speed from Sauros itself. Soon this resolved into a hemisphere of grey metal, its curved surface facing downwards. Soundlessly, it settled in towards them and landed. Running around the inside this object was seating, and at its centre a single column supporting a basketball-sized globe.
âIn,' Saphothere instructed, and Tack clambered aboard.
Once seated, Saphothere reached over to the globe, which split like a flower head to reveal a hand-shaped indentation.
âWrong person puts his hand in this thing and the globe closes, snipping his hand off at the wrist,' Saphothere lectured.
As the hemisphere rose into the air, he gestured over the side with his other hand. âNow a little fire would not have put
him
off.'
Looking over the side, Tack did not need anyone to tell him that he was seeing his first tyrannosaur. As the monster stepped delicately through the vegetation, tilting its enormous head from side to side to observe the rising pall of smoke, Tack felt a surge of joy at the sight, tempered with gratitude for not being at ground level. Here was a creature that even the andrewsarchus might flee.
âBeware the jabberwock, my son,' said Saphothere. âThe jaws that bite, the claws that catch.'
Tack looked askance at him.
âBeware the jub-jub bird, and shun,' the Traveller continued, âthe frumious bandersnatch.'
Tack peered back at the ground, wondering if he might see such creatures.
Â
AFTER BLACKING OUT AGAIN because of lack of air, Polly felt a creeping horror that this would happen to her again and again, until someone or something killed her. There was an aching weariness in her and the flesh felt loose on her bones. But, as was usual, the hunger impelled her more than the need for rest.
Pushing herself to her knees, she looked around. The surrounding marsh was still and eerie, and even though the sun was shining the air was cold and damp.
âWhere and when the hell am I now?' she asked, her voice rough. âAnd why didn't I grab some food before I shifted?'
If you'd taken time to grab some food, I suspect you'd have received open-heart surgery without the benefit of an anaesthetic. As to when we are, I suspect that each jump you make takes you back a multiple of the previous one, so this is certainly more than a thousand years before Claudius came across the Channel to slaughter the ancient Britons.
By now she realized there was no going forward again. This time, as a sensation much like huge acceleration took hold of her, she'd been able to sense, somehow, the direction she must go in order to travel forward in time. At the root of her being she had known that the scale could take her forward, but all effort to shift in that direction had been thwartedâas for a swimmer fighting against a riptide.
Finally finding the energy to stand, Polly was alarmed by a nauseating movement, until she realized she was standing on a mat of reeds that ringed a small island. Moving inwards to firmer ground, she glanced from side to side and all she could see was an expanse of water dotted with more islands. Licking the water soaked into the sleeve of her greatcoat she found it salt, so it seemed that not only was there no prospect of food here, but nothing to drink either.
âI wonder if I could get this thing off,' she said, running her hand over the surface of the scale, which was now utterly smooth to the touch.
Why? Do you want to stay here?
The minimum she wanted was to be back in her own time, with access to the comforts of civilization, but with her head as clear as it was now. But she was ambitious for more. She wanted the advantages âMuse Nandru' gave her and continued use of the scale, so she could choose exactly where to travel in time.
âSomehow I have to learn how to control it,' she muttered.
An unlikely possibility. Monitoring your blood sugars has confirmed that it is some kind of parasite, and that basically for it you are only an energy source powering each of its leaps through time. That's why you feel so hungry on each occasionâit burns away every available resource inside you. On the plus side, you'll never get to be a size twelve.
âFucking ha-ha.'
Uh-huh, here come the natives.
Looking through Polly's eyes, Nandru had spotted him first, for on one of the salty waterways a coracle was coming into sight. As it drew closer, Polly noted that the man sitting inside it was short and squat, with dark oily hair and a knotted brown body. He wore breeches of some kind of animal skin, a sleeveless top of rank-looking fur, round his throat a necklace of shells. Once he saw her, he immediately stopped paddling and snatched up a spear with a long serrated-bone blade. Gazing at him Polly wondered if this time might be the Stone Age. She had found that mentioned in an encyclopedia disc left behind in her apartment PC by the previous ownersâa disc she had studied for a little while till growing bored and using it as a coaster.
âStone Age?' she asked.
Probably, so watch yourself. This guy probably hasn't heard of female emancipation.
She watched the intruder put down his spear, a look of infinite distrust still on his face, and take up his paddle to row the coracle closer. Wondering if it might now be judicious to take another jump through time, she tested the webwork lacing through her body, but received only a sluggish response. Reaching her island, the prehistoric man took up his spear again, probing the mat of reeds with its tip before stepping ashore. He gabbled something, in which Polly could identify no single word.
âWhat did he say?' she subvocalized.
My best guess would be, âWho the fuck are you?' I'm getting nothing through my translation programs.
The man repeated it louder and more insistently, gesturing first at her with his spear, then towards the coracle. He was eyeing her in a way she recognized and was strangely reassured by. At least his intentions were not entirely hostile. She gave him a smile and after a fleeting frown he smiled back. Retaining a half smile, she stepped forward, clutching at his arm to steady herself over the carpet of reeds, and climbed shakily into his coracle. The primitive followed her, and the coracle dipped alarmingly as he took his place. When he spoke again, she merely smiled at him again, but this now seemed to annoy him. He reached out, yanked her towards him, then pushed her down into the belly of the coracle, where he pressed one filthy possessive foot on her.
Â
THE HELIOTHANE HERE WERE all beautiful, but in the same way as tigersâthey were endowed with a grace and symmetry best admired from a safe
distance. In one of the many narrow corridors leading outwards to the viewing windows, Tack encountered a goddess over two metres tall. Her skin was the colour of amber and possessed some of that gem's translucence, her yellow hair intricately braided, and her eyes utterly weirdâgold irises set off by black sclera. She wore clothing much like Saphothere's: a long coat of black leather, loose trousers tucked into spear-toed boots, and a shirt of rough red canvas. What jewellery she woreâin her ears, around her neck, and threaded in her hairâwas of polished bone. Gaping at her, Tack did not realize he was blocking her path, until, showing a flash of irritation, she slammed him into the wall and strode past. Winded, Tack continued on towards the windows, as directed by Saphothere, where thankfully there was more space to move.
Gazing out over the vista below, Tack first located the dying fire, then the tyrannosaur. The controls, set low in a corner of this particular window, were not so simple as Saphothere had suggested. Trying to track the moving virtual buttons, Tack managed to flick the window to infrared, which only worsened the view.
âWhat are you trying to do?'
Tack froze. Thus far no one but Saphothere had spoken to him in his own language. Thus far he had found it prudent to avoid all other Heliothane. Apparently it had taken much persuading on Saphothere's part to prevent some of these people from just cutting off Tack's arm and lodging it somewhere safe. He turned round slowly.
Whereas most of the Heliothane that Tack had seen were tall and rangy, this man was of a more normal height, which he more than made up for in breadth, for his shoulders had to measure one full metre across. He wore a loose shirt and trousers of a material resembling thick white cotton. His skin in contrast was jet black, features negroid, and eyes mild brown. Tack also noticed that much of his exposed skin was laced with fine scars.
âI'm trying to get a closer view of a tyrannosaurus out there,' Tack replied.
The man humphed and reached out an arm as thick as Tack's leg, which terminated in a boulder-crushing hand. Half expecting to receive a blow, Tack jerked back, but instead the man ran his fingers over the virtual controls, and the window flung up the required view of the creature outside, tracking it as it moved in its endless search for prey to chew on.