The Technicolor Time Machine

“Facing the right way to steer,” Ottar said stubbornly, holding onto the handle of the steer-board that came across the deck from the side, and facing full astern toward the vanishing land. “When leaving land always look at it, making sure of direction. That is the way it is done.”

With a certain amount of pleading, cajoling—and bribery—Barney managed to get Ottar and Slithey to the far side of the handle where Ottar had to steer by looking over his shoulder. Slithey stood next to him, her hand resting on the wood next to his, and they got their shots of the receding shore.

“Cut,” Barney finally ordered, and Ottar relievedly went back to the correct position.

“I put you ashore around the point,” he said.

“Suits,” Barney said. “I’ll get on the radio and have one of the trucks waiting for us.”

Slinging the camera overboard was the only tricky part, and Barney stayed aboard after the others had disembarked, waiting until it was safely ashore. “See you in Vinland,” he said, putting out his hand. “Have a good trip.”

“Sure,” Ottar said, crushing Barney’s hand in his. “You find a good spot for me. Water, grass for animals, plenty hardwood trees.”

“I’ll do my best,” Barney said, shaking the blood back into his whitened fingers.

The Viking did not waste any time. As soon as Barney had jumped ashore he ordered, with relieved shouts and loud curses, that the beitass be rigged in position. This long pole fitted into a socket in the deck and the other end caught the edge of the sail so that it bellied into the wind. The ship pulled free of the land for the last time and headed for the open sea, the shouts and animal sounds fading into the distance.

“They better make it,” Barney said, half aloud. “They just had better make it.” He turned away abruptly and climbed into the truck. “Get me to the platform—and step on it” he told the driver. He could eliminate at least half of his fears at once by finding out if the ship would make a safe arrival in Iceland. The time machine did not simplify his problems, but it at least made the waiting and nail-chewing period a good deal shorter.

The camp was in a turmoil as they drove up, the tents being struck and everything loaded for the move to the new location, but Barney had no eyes for it; he tapped impatiently on the window frame. The entire operation was waste motion if anything happened to the ship. He was out of the car while it was still braking to a stop at the time platform. The jeep was already aboard and Tex and Jens Lyn were watching the professor charge the vremeatron batteries.

“Where’s Dallas?” Barney asked.

Tex pointed with his thumb. “In the can.”

“At a time like this!”

“We can go without him,” Tex said. “It doesn’t need the two of us for this job. All we have to do is deliver Ottar’s winter ration of whiskey once we know he arrived okay,”

“You’ll do what I say. I want two men along for protection, just in case. I don’t want any slip-ups. Here he comes now—get going.”

Barney stepped away from the time platform as the professor activated the field. As always—from the observer’s point of view—the voyage seemed to take no more than a fraction of a second. The platform vanished and reappeared again a few feet farther away.

It had changed though. Professor Hewett was sealed into his instrumentation shack, while the rest were in the jeep, which had its top up and side curtains attached. Almost a foot of snow blanketed everything, and a flurry of airborne snow blew out of the vremeatron’s field and coated the grass around it.

“Well?” Barney shouted. “What happened? Come out of there and report.”

Dallas climbed down from the jeep and trudged over through the snow. “That Iceland,” he said. “What a climate they got there in October.”

“Save the weather report. Are Ottar and the ship all right?”

“Everything’s fine. The ship is up on the shore for the winter, and when we left Ottar and his uncle were getting smashed on the booze we brought. For a while there we worried he would never show, the Prof had to make four jumps to find him. Seems he stopped for some time in the Faeroes. Between you and me I don’t think he would ever have got to Iceland if his thirst hadn’t got the better of him. Once you get hooked on the distilled stuff, the homebrew doesn’t seem so hot.”

Barney relaxed, for the first time in a long time he realized, as the tension faded. He even managed a slight smile.

“Good. Now let’s get the company moved while we still have some daylight at this end.” He climbed aboard the time platform, walking carefully in the jeep’s tracks so he wouldn’t get his shoes full of melting snow, and opened the door of the control room.

“Got enough juice for another jump?” he asked.

“With the motor-generator going the batteries are charged at all times, a great improvement.”

“Then take us ahead in time to next spring, the year 1005, and land us at a good spot in Newfoundland, one of the sites you and Lyn searched when you were looking for the Viking settlements.”