No one answered but no one looked particularly contrite either. This was going to re-ignite at any minute and at any minute the Boss could walk in and after Bentley Trauma he wouldn’t be in the best of moods. Taking a deep breath, I moved between the opposing groups; a buffer zone with a black eye.
‘Well, let’s just have a guess what’s going on here, shall we? Some prat told the “How do you raise the intelligence level of a pod? Take out the historian,” joke. And then some smart arse said, “How many techies does it take to change a light bulb? Only one, but you need a lot of light bulbs!” and someone else didn’t find that funny and then some other joker showed his ID to the dog rather than the security guy because everyone knows the dog’s the one with the brains and the next thing is you’re all kicking seven shades of shit out of each other.’
There were some murmurings from the group and someone said, ‘Hey.’
‘Don’t “hey” me. I’m ashamed of all of you. I’ll tell you this now. This “My section’s the best and only we’ve got any brains in this outfit,” attitude is really beginning to piss me off. Everyone makes a contribution here. The techies provide the wherewithal for us to do our job. Security keeps us all safe. Mrs Mack feeds us. How far would any of us get without her toad in the hole on Wednesdays? Wardrobe makes our costumes and equipment. Mrs Partridge’s gang make sure we all get paid on time. How important do you think they are?’ I paused. ‘And historians are the ones out there bleeding in the mud. Anyone here want our job?’
I took a deep, ragged breath and spoke more quietly. ‘We’re all special and we’re all the best there is, but sometimes we’re such a pain in the arse.’
Silence. It hadn’t worked. Most people looked sulky; the technicians looked smug and Security was thinking about whom to hit next. We were one deep breath away from meltdown. And my face hurt.
Suddenly, I was so tired of all this. This was no way to behave. I had, what seemed at the time, to be a brainwave. Turning to Dieter I said, ‘Come with me tomorrow.’
He stared at me.
‘No, seriously, come with me tomorrow,’ I said, making it all up as I went along. ‘I have to return to the Cretaceous to check out something that arose out of today’s presentation. I’ll need a wingman, so why don’t you come along and see what it’s all about. Come on, Dieter, come and say hello to a T-rex!’
I’d put him in an impossible position. He didn’t want to go. They all knew what happened to people who went out with me. I saw Kalinda stir and Peterson caught her arm.
‘What do you say, Dieter? Are you going to put your money where your mouth is? Or would you prefer to stay quietly at home? I’ll quite understand if you do.’
Looking at him, I could see he wanted to say no. He was just looking for a face-saving way to do it. Well, I wasn’t going to help. Everyone watched in silence.
‘It’s OK, Dieter, I understand.’ I patted his arm gently. ‘It’s no big deal. But I think you would have enjoyed it. What a shame.’
Just to add a little pressure, I touched my face gently and winced.
He shook my hand off. ‘Of course I’ll go. Someone has to keep you historians out of trouble.’
‘Great. I’ll see you after breakfast for a quick briefing. It’s not a long jump, just a couple of hours, but enough to give you an idea. Greens by the way, definitely not orange. Some of them hunt by sight. And no more alcohol – that goes without saying.’
He nodded, obviously wondering what he’d let himself in for. I moved off before he had time to change his mind and joined Kalinda and Peterson.
‘You’d better bring this one back,’ said Kalinda darkly. ‘And all of him, too; living and breathing.’ Just in case I hadn’t got the message.
‘It’ll be fine. It’s only a couple of hours. You’ll be shagging each other senseless again this time tomorrow.’
‘Oh, please,’ said Peterson. ‘Max, you can’t take a techie on a jump.’
‘Why not? I took a techie on the presentation, which went very well, thank you for asking.’
I wanted to distract them with the presentation and historians are easily distracted. Attention span of a – what was I saying?
I saw Chief Farrell standing in the doorway surveying the destruction. He looked at me and the look clearly said, ‘Seriously? I leave you for ten minutes and you have a black eye?’
Belatedly, I remembered protocol. I gestured to Dieter to join me.
‘Chief Farrell, as you know, I need to return to the Cretaceous tomorrow and with your permission, I’d like Mr Dieter to accompany me on a short jump. I need a wingman and he has expressed an interest. If you have no objections, of course.’
He glanced around the room slowly being put to rights. I felt a little guilty. I’d really sprung this on him. Dieter knew it and stood waiting for permission to be refused. I moved my hand slightly to where the Chief could see it and crossed my fingers.
He smiled slightly. ‘A new experience for you, Mr Dieter. Well volunteered. Enjoy yourself.’
Dieter took a deep breath. ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,’ shot me a look, and disappeared.