Plan for the Worst

by Jodi Taylor

  He grinned and nodded. Atherton is the nearest thing we have to a sensible historian. He isn’t continually injuring himself. He’s not having any sort of relationship with a domestic animal. He rarely argues with anyone and never gets into fights. He just happily does his job and everyone likes him. I keep wondering if I should encourage him to breed.

  ‘Once you’ve established when the eruption occurs, report back here – and with all speed, please, Mr Atherton. Please do not leave things until the last moment. As usual, I’m afraid this precludes you from the main part of the assignment, but once recovered, I’d like you to liaise with the Technical Section and take charge of the shuttle service.’

  The shuttle service is a small pod, usually Number Two, which would shunt in and out under cover of darkness, ferrying supplies and people during the assignment.

  ‘Everyone OK so far?’

  Everyone nodded.

  ‘On to Crete itself, then.’ I brought up a map of Crete. ‘There will – as usual – be two sites, designated – as always – Site A and Site B. Site A will be on the outskirts of Knossos, close enough to be in touch with what’s going on in town but far enough away to avoid any civil disturbances or major fires.

  ‘This site will comprise Mr Sands, who will be in charge, Dr Black, Mr Clerk, Miss Sykes, Mr Bashford, Mr Lindstrom, Mr Gallacio, Mr Cox and Mr Keller. Your pods will be Numbers Three, Four and Five.

  ‘Site B, a few miles out of town and higher up, will comprise me, Dr Peterson, Miss Van Owen, Mr Roberts, Dr Dowson, Dr Stone, Mr Dieter, Mr Markham and Mr Evans. We’ll be in Numbers Six, Seven and Eight. Designated first-aid posts are Six at Site B and Three at Site A.’

  Just a quick digression. One thing I’d discovered during my fortunately brief spell working with the Time Police was that they had properly designated hospital pods. I’d rather thought our big pod, TB2, might be utilised for this purpose. It wouldn’t take much to convert a part of it for medical purposes. There would be room for comprehensive medical supplies and a dedi­cated treatment area. Dr Stone had been quite enthusiastic when I’d mentioned it to him and I planned to take it up with Dr Bairstow. Well, I’d write a recommendation and send it via Mrs Partridge.

  Back to the briefing. ‘Our main task is to survey all aspects of Minoan civilisation up to but definitely not including the Theran eruption. I know, but this one is out of our league, people. We’ll probably be OK for the preliminaries, but the main event is strictly out of bounds. Dr Dowson is our designated eruption expert.’ I waited for the laughter to die down. ‘Dr Black has managed to blag the very latest in seismograph technology from the geology department at Thirsk. Maintaining that equipment is one of the reasons the Technical Section will have a major role in this assignment.’

  ‘Aww,’ said the History Department, turning to grin at the Technical Section. ‘That’s nice.’

  The Technical Section stared solidly back again and folded its arms – the message being that no historian would be allowed within breaking distance of anything more technical than a box of tissues.

  I thumped the table for attention because this was important. ‘I will state now and continue to reinforce throughout this assignment: when Dr Dowson says jump – you will jump. Literally. There will be no hanging around to look at the pretty lava, or admire the speed of the deadly pyroclastic flow coming straight at you, or attempting to assess the height of the ash clouds because there will never be another opportunity, Max. When he gives the word, you will get into the pods and jump out of there. This volcano wrecks an island, people. Not the one we’re on, true, but seventy miles is uncomfortably close. It doesn’t come right out of the blue, however. We should have plenty of warning in the form of tremors, small earthquakes and so on. There will be no excuse for anyone not being at their designated site when the time comes. If, for some reason, you can’t get there, make your way to the other site and ensure the person in charge informs your team leader. I don’t want any major casualties on this one and I certainly don’t want anyone left behind in the confusion. Is that clearly understood?’

  Everyone assumed expressions of enthusiastic compliance and assured me they’d definitely be at the correct site in plenty of time to jump safely away. I didn’t believe a word of it. Not even for a moment.

  ‘Right then – the allocation of responsibilities.

  ‘Mr Markham and the Security Section will survey the town and palace. They’ll produce a street plan, together with the location and function of important public buildings. I can’t overstress the importance of this. Almost everything will be lost until Arthur Evans turns up millennia later. There is a feeling in some quarters that some of his . . . reconstructions . . . owe more to imagination than accuracy, so this will be a chance to set the record straight.’

  I consulted my scratchpad. ‘Dr Black has requested Religion and Ritual. The usual stuff – gods, temples, priests. How influential is the Snake Goddess? Is she another aspect of the Mother?’ I looked at Kal. ‘You know what to look for.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Dr Peterson has requested Culture. Art, pottery, ceramics, architecture, metalwork, sculpture and so on. Please liaise with Miss Sykes who has Language, Writing – the Linear A script – and oral traditions such as stories and so on.’ I turned to her. ‘You’ll probably hear a hundred languages all around you. It might even be possible that the aristocracy speaks a different language to the lower classes, much in the same way as in Medieval England. Any clues that would help translations of Linear A will, I’m sure, be appreciated by Thirsk. And, of course, most importantly, there’s the bull-leaping, which I imagine will fall into the remits of Religion, Culture and Language. How is that organised? Who participates? Which god is honoured, and so forth? Work together on that, please.

  ‘Mr Clerk has volunteered for Social Structure. Kings, priests, citizens, slaves and so on. I’m sorry, Mr Clerk, I know Culture was your first choice, but, again, I think there will be considerable overlap between the two subjects. Please pay particular attention to the matriarchal aspects of Minoan society.’

  He nodded. He didn’t look particularly upset at not scoring his first choice.

  ‘Mr Bashford is to take on Commerce. Markets, please. Is it a cash society or do they barter? I suspect you’ll spend a lot of time down at the harbour watching what gets loaded on and off the ships. Liaise please with Mr Sands, who will have a specific responsibility for their merchant fleet. Trade is the Minoan lifeblood. We’ll need full details of ships, shipbuilding, crews, warehouses and so on.

  ‘That takes care of Site A. Miss Van Owen and Mr Roberts will be up at Site B. They’ve got Agriculture. A large part of the population is urban, living in and around the palace of Knossos. There must be a vast and very well organised agricultural structure supporting them. Crops, harvests, livestock and so on. Please liaise with Mr Markham’s team when they survey the palace. We’re particularly interested in whether part of its function is that of storage. Oil, cereals, figs, wine and so on.

  ‘Mr Roberts, I’d like you also to take on rural life in general. How do they live, the agricultural year and so on.’

  I paused for more water. ‘Are there any questions?’

  I wasn’t expecting any. This wasn’t our first Big Job. People knew how things would go and what was expected of them. On to the boring but vital stuff.

  ‘The shift pattern is the usual Rule of Three. Three weeks on. One week off. Teams are a minimum of three, one of whom must be a member of Security. All team leaders will be able to draft people in to work on their teams as required. However, be aware there aren’t enough of us to go around, so negotiate with each other. We can get it all done but only if we work together.’

  I paused to stare meaningfully around the room. It’s a miracle I wasn’t blinded by the innocence radiating from every person present. I cleared my throat and continued.

  ‘Hazards to look ou
t for: the sun, obviously. No one leaves a pod without water. Or sun protection and a hat or head covering of some kind. It will be hot, people.’

  Bashford put up his hand. ‘Hostile wildlife?’

  ‘Surprisingly little. All the snakes are non-poisonous. The Snake Goddess is very powerful so don’t go killing any and getting yourselves into trouble. There are scorpions – check your footwear every morning – along with mosquitoes and ants – don’t leave food around. You will need to watch for jumping spiders. The bites are painful and prone to infection. Report any problems to Dr Stone up at Site B.

  ‘First things first – get your medicals organised. Dr Stone is expecting you. All field medics, make sure you’re current.

  ‘Everyone report to Mrs Enderby and get yourselves kitted out. I’m afraid it’s the gentlemen who have drawn the short straw this time round. Most Minoan men wear only loincloths or tiny kilts. This assignment will be hazardous enough without adding in spindly white legs and toast-rack chests, so tunics will be deemed acceptable. They’ll mark us out as foreigners but that was always going to happen.’

  There were some sighs of relief from both sexes. Not that I’d done it out of the goodness of my heart. Many Minoan women went bare-chested as well and I didn’t want anyone getting ideas.

  ‘In contrast to the mainland Greeks, Cretan clothes are sewn, not pinned, and are surprisingly modern-looking. Ladies will be wearing fitted blouses and long, bell-shaped, heavily-flounced skirts. There’s lots of colour. Blue and terracotta are favourites. All waists, male and female, are tightly belted. The fashion is for metal belts but we’ll go with leather. Just for once, ladies, we don’t have to muffle ourselves or cover our heads. Both sexes wear their hair long and curled. Hairstyles are intricate. Oiled lovelocks are fashionable.

  ‘The ground will be rough underfoot. Crete is rocky and dusty. Sandals can be worn in urban areas, leather shoes for the rougher areas, or boots are all acceptable. Mrs Enderby is expecting you.’ I looked across at her. ‘Do you have anything to add?’

  ‘My department has a lot to get through,’ she said. ‘It would be most helpful if everyone could provide their measurements in advance. Please bear in mind that self-measured inside legs are always wildly inaccurate. We all remember the sad tale of Mr Bashford’s pantaloons. Measure each other and strive for accuracy, please.’

  Sykes raised her hand. ‘Language, Max?’

  ‘Not clear at this point. However, Crete is the centre of a vast trading empire and there will be a huge mixture of races and languages all about us. In the interests of a sale, I’m certain the locals will have devised many ways of making themselves understood. Anything else?’

  People shook their heads.

  ‘All right then – let’s get cracking. The usual massive amount of work and nothing like enough time to do it in. Thank you, everyone.’

  As part of his Pathfinding duties, Atherton was to take a small team to Thera and record the island as it was before a large lump of it imploded and crashed into the sea. His brief – apart from establishing the date of the explosion – was to pay special attention to the city of Akrotiri which would be completely buried under the pumice and lost for millennia.

  Pathfinding is a job that manages to be routine, slightly boring and very dangerous. A bit like us, really. The most hazardous part of the job was liaising with Miss Lee, whose vital job it was to keep our dates straight. Atherton would be jumping in and out of the area trying to establish the best time and place for us to be. It’s not as easy as it sounds. You have to be very, very careful not to be in the same time twice. Consequently, he’d start at a date when we knew the island was intact and keep jumping forwards in small increments until either he identified the correct date or was vaporised in the attempt.

  Miss Lee maintained the database that would keep a very careful track of his movements and she had the balls to enforce it. Sadly for Atherton, this meant the amount of time he spent on the actual assignment itself might be quite short, but he never seemed to mind. ‘I’m always the first on site,’ he would say. ‘You lot are only following in my footsteps.’

  He wouldn’t be alone – he’d have Prentiss and Irving from Security to keep him out of trouble. How effective they’d be against the biggest eruption in the ancient world was hard to perceive, although I was sure they’d do their best. And Atherton is calm, sensible and takes no risks. You can always rely on Atherton.

  One minute all was sweetness and light and St Mary’s going about its normal business in Hawking Hangar, and the next, Adrian was flinging himself sideways as a plinth lit up, all the alarms went off and Dieter roared for everyone to get clear.

  The pod dropped out of nowhere, thudding on to its plinth with an almighty crash that must have loosened the fillings of everyone in Hawking that morning. Including me, innocently discussing pod availability with Dieter and Leon.

  The echoes died away and there was Number Two, gently smoking, and, I’d like to say, looking mostly unscathed, but unfortunately it was looking very scathed indeed. There would be a memo later from the Technical Section.

  The automatic powder sprinklers cut in, covering everything and everyone in what looked like a light layer of talcum powder.

  I stepped back as Leon and Dieter grabbed an extinguisher each and ran towards the pod. Adrian got there first, picking himself up and getting the door open.

  Out staggered Prentiss, closely followed by Atherton supporting Irving. Smoke billowed from the open door. They were coughing and spluttering and covered in thick white ash which appeared to have turned into a kind of paste because they’d been – and still were – sweating heavily. And they had the scorched look common to those who’ve been standing too close to a volcano at just the wrong moment.

  Adrian got them out of the way and Dieter and Leon stepped in to deal with any internal fires. It was all neat and smooth and coordinated, and if I’d been of an ungenerous nature, I would have felt slightly resentful. And envious. And reluctantly impressed.

  There was a lot of squirting and hissing and then, finally, silence. I stayed around long enough to see that Leon made it safely back out of the pod and then went for a word with Mr Atherton.

  He and the two others were sitting on the floor, drinking water.

  ‘All right?’ I said, showing immense concern for their well-being.

  They nodded. ‘We’re fine.’

  ‘No, we’re not,’ said Irving indignantly. ‘I twisted my ankle.’

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ said Prentiss. ‘You fell over your enormous feet as we were running back to the pod. We had to carry you most of the way. I’ve really done my back in, thanks to you.’

  Atherton – a fine historian with correctly aligned priorities – turned to me triumphantly. ‘We overshot slightly, Max, but I think we’ve more or less got the date. To within a week, anyway.’

  ‘Well done. Well done all of you.’

  Mr Lindstrom passed him some more water and he gulped it down. ‘Who had 1628BC?’

  This was not such an incomprehensible remark as you might think. Different theories abounded and dates ranged from 1750 to 1450BC. There had been a sweepstake. Participation had been enthusiastic and the winning prize was a substantial amount of money. I myself had bagged 1642, 1628, 1611 and 1575. A nice spread, I thought. Elegant, even.

  It didn’t register to begin with. And then it did. I’d won!

  ‘Yes,’ I shouted, planning to put it behind the bar for our return celebration. ‘Me. Me. Me.’

  ‘He’s got it wrong,’ said Peterson in disgust. ‘I demand a recount. Send them back again, Max.’

  ‘They’re coming with me,’ said Dr Stone, miraculously appearing as was his wont. ‘The rest of you – and that includes the lucky winner who should know better – should back off right now.’

  We backed off and they were led away.

  Atherto
n’s optimistic, ‘I’ll send you my report, Max,’ was cut off short as the door closed behind them. I turned to everyone else.

  ‘That’s it, people. We’re off.’

  30

  Crete was fabulous.

  Well, lots of people know that already – it’s a very popular holiday resort. Trust me, it was even better in 1628BC. Just out of this world.

  I think it’s the colours I’ll always remember. The brilliant blue sky. The glittering turquoise sea. The red, black, white and ochre of the buildings. The bright clothing. The purple crocuses. The huge dark mountains. The silver-green of the olive groves. The unexpected bright green patches of cultivated land. All of it blindingly, brilliantly bright under a white-hot sun.

  We landed with a very gentle bump. A natural consequence of keeping Peterson as far away from the console as possible. We checked everything very, very carefully. Minoan society was peaceful. They were too powerful to have any enemies but there’s no point in looking for trouble, so we were cautious. We’d aimed for just before dawn when we guessed few people, if any, would be about.

  Van Owen consulted the proximities and reported all clear.

  ‘Well,’ I said. ‘Here goes. Good luck, everyone.’

  We opened the door and lovely, cool, pre-dawn air flooded in although we knew it would be hot later on.

  I opened my com. ‘Mr Sands? Report, please.’

  ‘We’re all here, Max. On target and safe. A couple of hundred yards from what we think is part of the residential quarter. Close but not too close. We’re getting set up now.’

  ‘Well done, everyone. We’ll see you later.’

  I stepped outside. The dark smudge that was the palace and town of Knossos lay below us. Hundreds of tiny flickering lights danced in the darkness.

  ‘That’s good,’ said Markham. ‘They light the town at night. No curfew. I’m off to do the security check, Max.’

  I nodded. He and Evans disappeared to check out the surrounding area.