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—