IF I'M HERE, IMAGINE WHERE THEY SENT MY LUGGAGE
Robert J. Sawyer

[23 may 2002—proofed for #bookz]

     One look at the eyes of that allosaur had been enough: fiery red with anger, darting with hunger, and
a deeper glow of ... cunning. Those sickle claws may be great for shredding prey, but he can't run worth a
damn on mud.
     Come on, Allo-baby, you may have the armament, but I took Paleo 250 with Professor Blackhart!
     Damn the professor, anyway. If it weren't for his class, I'd be on Altair III now, not running for my
life across a prehistoric mud flat.
     Those idiots at Starport Toronto said teleportation was a safe way to travel. "Just concentrate on your
destination and the JumpLink belt will do the rest."
     Hah! I was concentrating, but when I saw that fat broad, I couldn't help thinking of a brontosaur. So I
let my mind wander for half a second: the JumpLink belt still shouldn't have dumped me here with the
dinosaurs. There should be enough juice left for one more Jump, if I can get it to work.
     Damn, it's hard fiddling with your belt buckle while doing a three-minute kilometer. Let's see: if I re-
route those fiber optics through that picoprocessor ...
     The thwock-thwock of clawed feet sucking out of mud is getting closer. Got to hurry. Thwock-
thwock!
     There! The timer's voice counts down: "Four."
     Concentrate on Starport Toronto. Concentrate. Thwock-thwock!
     "Three."
     Toronto. The Starport. Concentrate. Thwock-thwock!
     "Two."
     Concentrate hard. Starport Toronto. No stray thoughts. Thwock-thwock!
     "One."
     Boy, am I going to give them Hell—