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ignition keys and shut the engine down.
Then it was silent, silent except for the high whine of the other ship,
turbine spinning out of control, down somewhere to our right.
The land was mucky, ferny, with cycads that looked much like the ones around
prehistoric Saint Louis.
Beauregard looked scared. He wasn't a hunter, didn't pretend to be.
Nor was I a mankiller. But I was about to learn how.
I'd better.
I motioned silence, waved Beauregard to my left rear, and we started forward.
I moved slowly, as slowly as I'd ever stalked. Even Tyrannosaurus doesn't
shoot back.
I saw Hendrik as he saw me.
He had one of those super shotguns.
I stepped sideways, into the slight cover of a drooping fern, and had my gun
up.
I fired just an instant before he did.
My .600 round took him in the mouth, and took off most of his head.
His shot went wide. At least most of it did.
One of the pellets got me in the forearm, and I jerked, dropping my rifle.
Kilbrew came up from a crouch, behind Hendrik's body. He was carrying the
.577.
I went for my .600, but it was far, too far away.
He had me cold.
Being Kilbrew, he savored the moment, aiming carefully.
There was a tight grin on his face.
"Fuck you!" I managed, damned if I'd give him the satisfaction of any fear.
I braced for the shock, even though I knew there wouldn't be any pain.
Just instant death.
He was less than ten meters away when he fired.
The bullet sprayed muck a meter away from me. Kilbrew gaped at the impossible
miss, worked the bolt, and then Beauregard shot him in the guts.
The bullet, intended for one-shot kills of anything short of an elephant,
almost cut Kilbrew in two.
Kilbrew went back, and down, completely motionless.
Illogically, since there was nothing left to kill, I scrabbled for my rifle,
broke it, fumbled another slug in, and snapped the action closed.
Then I looked up.
Coming out of the brush to the side was a small, hairy biped. It had a furred
face, and wide, lemur-like eyes that were watching me curiously, not afraid,
not worried.
I froze, seeing Australopithecus afarensis.
He, for I could see it was a male, eyed me calmly, then looked up at
Beauregard, who stood, petrified, rifle in his hand.
Afarensis nodded then, as if making a judgment, and was gone.
Bloody hell.
I felt like I'd just met my own grandfather. I know with that tiny head he
couldn't have been very intelligent, but to me he looked as if he had all the
wisdom of all mankind.
Paul, I've been dry for ten minutes, and I really need another, very badly . .
. thank you.
Better. Some better.
I walked over, picked up Kilbrew's rifle. I'd been right. There aren't any
free lunches in physics. That few centimeters Kilbrew had so cleverly designed
had also given the gun's recoil a chance to get a little momentum, enough to
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shock-shear one of the scope mounts. Kilbrew hadn't noticed it, but the scope
was twisted about 20 degrees to the side.
Sometimes, the scientists are right. . . .
So we piled the bodies into our hovercraft, and went back to our camp.
It wasn't quite as bad as we thought.
Only four of the help died. The others, after careful nursing by us, then
shuttled back to where the transition chamber would come, and rushed to the
best hospital in Nairobi, all lived.
I told an inspector of the Kenyan police what had happened.
"One of the richest men in the world . . . murdered. This is not good," he
decided. "Did he say anything about having bribed the Ethiopian guards around
Awash?"
"Nothing," I said. "But we weren't on chatting terms by then."
He turned everything over to the local UN representative, who turned
everything in turn over to the US
ambassador.
Surprisingly, no one leaked.
At least, not yet.
But suddenly there's mention of laws completely closing off Ethiopia from any
time travel under ten million years ago. Or maybe closing it off completely.
I don't know.
I don't really care, since I'll never go back to the Pleistocene again.
One look at those eyes, and that was enough for me forever.
Of course, Wandi Kilbrew refused to pay the bill, and lawyers are now talking.
When his estate eventually comes through, you can bloody bet Beauregard Black
will get a bonus that will stagger his people for half a dozen generations.
And I'm thinking that maybe from now on I'll do nothing but sightseeing or
photo safaris.
Father Figures
Susan Shwartz
"I have been a word in a book
I have been a book originally"
("Cad Goddeu," "The Battle of the Trees," attributed to Taliesin)
Emrys sat alone under a tree trying not to panic. If he really were a prophet,
he'd have no cause to panic because he'd know
. But all Emrys knew was that Uther's men, who watched him from a hundred
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