by Hannah Ross
Cups were silently handed round and a drink was poured. Fermented, mildly alcoholic scent rose in the air, and the New Zealanders sniffed their cups suspiciously. Adam Barnes was bold enough to take a sip, and fought to swallow it. Annette and Chris did not touch their cups.
“The first thing to decide,” said Ri Koer, one of the elders, a distant relative of Tahan and Omrek, “is what should be done about Ne Riorag’s journey into the Spirit world. He deserves a great funeral pyre, or a funeral boat to carry him out to the open sea, but his body is lost.”
“I will go and look for my father’s bones,” declared Ne Tarveg.
“Young man, that is foolhardy,” said Ri Koer. “We will honor Ne Riorag as best we can, and call upon the Spirits to assist him in his journey to the world beyond.”
“It is even more important to decide what we are going to do from now on,” Ne Tarveg said. “What happened just now makes it clear that the beasts won’t leave us alone. They are our enemies – their memories go all the way back to the First Anai who had taken this valley from them. They want it back, and they won’t stop until we are all dead,” he finished, coiling his fists. His expression was vicious.
“What is he saying?” Annette asked nervously, turning to Scott. He translated as faithfully as he could. “But that is preposterous!” she broke out. “He talks as if the pterosaurs are capable of thinking, planning… of seeking revenge. No reptile ever could –“
Ne Tarveg looked at her. Scott opened his mouth to translate, but Ne Tarveg raised an arm, stopping him, and spoke in mangled English:
“The monsters think, yes. Hate us. Want kill us. My father, he first to throw spear. Monster see, take him.” He looked at the others and switched to Anai once more: “We are facing the same threat our forefathers had. It is us or them. Until the last of these beasts is dead, our people are in danger. We can’t afford to stay in the village and wait until they come for us. We have to seek them out ourselves.”
Tahan bit her lip. “It would be very, very dangerous, Ne Tarveg,” she said. “Who would agree to go?”
Ne Tarveg flashed her an angry look. “Anyone who cares about the future of the Anai! You are the chieftainness. Declare a war on the beasts, and call all men to come and help me destroy them.”
“I cannot compel men to risk their lives in this manner, Ne Tarveg.”
“What about the foreigners?” Ne Tarveg turned to Scott. “They have powerful weapons, far more powerful than our spears and bows. Will they help us fight for our lives?”
Scott knitted his eyebrows together. “I doubt it, Ne Tarveg.”
“What is he saying?” Annette asked again.
“He is asking whether the Anai may expect help from McMurdo in destroying the pterosaurs.”
Annette looked shocked. “Destroy them? Destroy this unique living bit of prehistoric fauna? Is this man out of his mind?”
“This unique living bit of prehistoric fauna has just killed his father,” Scott reminded her, rather dryly. Annette had the good grace to look abashed.
“That was very tragic, but let’s face it, the creature was provoked, and it was a one-time…”
“No, it was not a one-time occurrence. I have seen a pterosaur kill a man before.”
Annette was taken aback, but not for long. “I’m sure that with the appropriate safety measures…”
“Like what?” he asked sharply. “Building an unbreakable dome above the village, perhaps? Confining all the Anai to their homes? The pterosaurs are a threat. People are more important than animals, however rare. I do not advocate for the annihilation of a unique species, but if these reptiles cannot coexist with people, they must be captured and held in confinement.”
“The decision isn’t mine, Scott,” Annette said. “You will have to discuss this with Ray Douglas and the Antarctic Committee.”
She forced herself to speak calmly, Scott noticed, but her hands were shaking. Chris and Adam, too, were obviously perturbed. The Adam’s apple in Chris’s skinny neck moved up and down as he tried to speak.
“You… you say you have seen this happen before, Scott?”
“Yes,” he said shortly. He had no wish to recall that day. Victor Nash was a cold-blooded, evil, arrogant bastard, and he would have gotten them all killed if he could. Still, I’m not sure he deserved such a terrible fate.
In the horror of what happened, Scott had forgotten all about the suspicious tracks they saw back at AN-85, and it came as a shock when a young man peeked inside with a look of urgency that couldn’t be denied.
“I’m sorry for interrupting the council meeting,” he said, “but – but there are strangers on the edge of the settlement.”
Everybody sprang up at once. Ne Tarveg’s hand went to the hilt of the sharp flint knife he wore at his belt.
“Strangers? You mean, foreigners?” Tahan asked.
“Yes,” the youth nodded. “We stopped them on the outskirts of the village. They seem to come in peace, but… you had better come, chieftainness. And the elders, too. This looks suspicious.”
“What? What happened?” Annette demanded, tugging on Scott’s sleeve. In his agitation he almost forgot the New Zealanders were there.
“It means,” he said, “that the Russians decided to play against the rules.”
Led by the young man, they strode off as fast as they could to the place where the Russians were detained. There were three men – Sergey Pechersky was one, but Scott didn’t recognize the two others. The Russians were sitting on a large boulder amidst a wide circle of Anai guards, Omrek among them, armed with long flint spears. Their guns were placed upon the ground at some distance, and they wore a contrite look.
“I see you don’t put much stock in the Antarctic Treaty, Mr. Pechersky,” Scott said.
Pechersky looked around and offered a nod of recognition. “Mr. Buckley. Would you tell these men to give us room to breathe, please? We do no harm, promise.”
“I’m not the one who gives orders here,” Scott said, and looked at his wife. They exchanged a look and a nod.
“You can put your spears down for now,” Tahan told the guards. “I mean it, Omrek,” she pointedly looked at his brother as he scowled and gripped the handle of his weapon. “We don’t attack unarmed men. Though they were not invited, we might as well listen to them.”
“May I remind you that you don’t have an access permit to the valley, Mr. Pechersky?” Scott said. “But quite apart from that, you couldn’t have chosen a worse time for visiting.”
“Oh?” Pechersky raised his bushy eyebrows. “Something wrong?”
“You could say that. The village just survived an attack of vicious pterosaurs. A man was killed. The place is not safe, and if I were you, I’d make my way back at once.”
The Russians looked more curious than perturbed. Pechersky’s companions, who evidently understood very little English, leaned closer to him as he translated. Now that Scott looked at them more closely, the three looked as though they could be related. The other two Russians were built along the same lines as Pechersky, with great bulky muscular forms, wide shoulders, thick necks and sloping foreheads. Their eyes were set deep under protruding brow-ridges.
Pechersky noticed him looking. “Ah, I have bad manners,” he said with a poor attempt at an ingratiating smile. “These are Vasiliy Buryakov and Ilya Kalinin.” The two men nodded, hearing their names. “And I had said before, Mr. Buckley, I am ready to help. You say there was attack. If you had some of those,” he jerked his head towards the three guns upon the ground, “you could have beaten the monster.”
Annette Geels sucked in her breath with an angry hiss. “I will be reporting this to Mr. Douglas and the Antarctic Committee,” she declared. Sergey Pechersky gave her a contemptuous look and did not deign to reply.
Scott crossed his arms. “What are you doing here, Mr. Pechersky?”
“I told you – we mean no harm to you. No harm to these… Anai, you say? Interesting people,” Pechersky looked around.
Scott did not like his expression of cunning curiosity. “We know about the pterosaurs. We wanted to… to have a look.”
“With guns?” Chris Dawson interjected, shaking with suppressed rage. The Russian did not bestow as much as a look upon him.
“Wanted to know where they come from, where they live. Is interesting, no? Their place can’t be as cold as most of Antarctica. Perhaps is warmer… not like here, but warmer.”
“That’s an interesting theory, but I’m afraid there is no evidence to support it,” Scott said, not trusting the Russian one mite.
Pechersky shrugged. “Worth checking. We know pterosaurs were seen at bay not far from here. We don’t know way to bay except through this valley. If you know other way, comfortable one, tell us, we will take it.”
“You do not have permission to pass through this valley,” Scott said. “And if you want to look for another way… well, this isn’t any of my business, but I must just tell you, three guns aren’t nearly enough against one of those pretties.”
Annette shouldered her way forward and stood between Scott and the Russians, glaring upward at Sergey Pechersky. “Let me just make it very clear,” she said, “These unique reptiles are protected by law. An official declaration from the Antarctic Committee will be issued soon. And if I were you, Mr. Pechersky, I’d go back to your station at once, unless you want to make sure that a complaint is lodged with the Committee against Siyanie and all its staff.”
Pechersky looked at his two fellows, nodded, and muttered. “No need to fight. We are going now.”
The Russians went ahead to pick up their guns. “We should keep those,” Ne Tarveg told Scott in Anai.
“We can’t. It’s against the law, and it’s dangerous.”
Ne Tarveg had nothing to say against this, but he stepped aside for the Russians with extreme reluctance, scowling all the while.
Chapter 7
“Quite frankly, what you are suggesting is preposterous, Mr. Buckley.”
Scott scowled at the man sitting opposite him. It was Ted Steinmann, a representative of the International Antarctic Committee, who came to McMurdo following urgent summons by Ray Douglas. They were sitting in the tiny conference room next to the overseer’s office – Douglas, Steinmann, Lindholm, Annette Geels, and Scott.
“You weren’t there,” Scott said, trying hard not to lash out at Steinmann’s condescending attitude. “I tell you that the targeting of the Anai settlement by the flying reptiles is deliberate. The attack on Ne Riorag, the late member of our council of elders, was not random. Those creatures are a lot smarter than you think. We have observed them at some distance, and they have a complex system of communication that can be used against their adversaries. Don’t be so quick to dismiss what I’m telling you, Mr. Steinmann.”
Steinmann reached for his glass of water and took a gulp. He was wearing a smug little smile. A good punch to the nose would wipe this smirk off his face.
“Mr. Buckley,” Steinmann said, “I don’t mean to offend you, but I believe that continuous residence in, er, primitive conditions has tampered with your ability to judge. Your scientific logic was pushed aside by influence of tribal myth that has no basis in reality.”
“Are you hinting that the Anai people are ignorant savages?” Scott asked sharply. “I don’t like your patronizing attitude.”
“Now, Buck,” Lindholm said, “There’s no need to get crabby. We are only trying to get a clear picture of what actually happened.”
“Why don’t you ask Dr. Geels? She was there. She saw it all.”
“Dr. Geels?” Steinmann turned to the young woman. The light of the fluorescent bulb glistened off his bald pate.
She shook her head. “I only saw a predator going after prey. It… it was horrific, don’t get me wrong, but let’s keep this in perspective. According to all analysis of pterosaur bones and fossils that was ever conducted, it is clear that these reptiles had a very small brain capacity in proportion to their body size. They were not intelligent enough for complex communication, strategy, or organized resistance to another species.”
“Well, that’s a different kind of pterosaurs, then,” Scott said. “They have undergone a longer evolution process. They appear to be social creatures. And they can fly. Have you ever studied a species like that?”
“There’s no doubt they are unique,” Annette said.
“But more to the point,” Lindholm prompted. “Intelligent or stupid, vindictive or merely vicious, I think there is no doubt these unique reptiles present a very tangible threat to the Anai people, who have led a remarkably peaceful and harmonious existence for thousands of years. They are encroaching on the hunting territories. They are trying to invade the valley, no doubt attracted by its warmth. What are we supposed to do in the face of such a… conflict?”
“The first thing is to declare this new species, now known as the Antarctosaurus, protected under the ecological clauses of the Antarctic Treaty. It is not to be hunted or harmed in any way, and the Anai people are advised to adjust their lifestyle so that they can peacefully coexist with their, er, fascinating neighbors.”
“I invite you to take a journey to AN-85 and visit the valley, Mr. Steinmann,” Scott said. “A very cursory observation will convince you that there is no way for the Anai to coexist with these beasts. The valley and the hunting areas have limited territory, and their ecological balance can be easily disrupted.”
“Well, if we are honest, the Anai were the ones who disrupted the balance in the first place, when they arrived to colonize the valley,” Annette Geels said. “If it weren’t for them, the local pterosaur population would have remained intact.”
Scott raised his eyebrows. “Are you now blaming the ancient Anai for doing all they could to survive?”
“No, of course not, but…”
“My wife’s people –“ Scott said, “our people are speaking for the immediate extermination of these deadly beasts. That’s a very understandable sentiment, considering what has come to pass.”
He remembered the rites they held in honor of Ne Riorag, the empty pyre, the beat of ceremonial drums, the chants of the elders invoking the Spirit to help guide Ne Riorag through the eternal night. He remembered Ne Tarveg driving his spear into the earth, vowing revenge before all the Anai people.
“Don’t tell me you endorse such barbaric views, Mr. Buckley,” Steinmann said.
“I say the pterosaurs ought to be tracked and captured. They can be held in confinement, in an artificial environment that would provide comfortable surroundings for them. That way, they can live peacefully, reproduce, and be studied.”
“That doesn’t sound very practical, Scott,” Annette said, shaking her head. “Even if we have unlimited budget, which we don’t I don’t see how this can be done. And besides, why should the Antarctosaurus be deprived of its natural habitat?”
“Why should the Anai be deprived of theirs?” Scott threw back.
“The Anai are people. They can live anywhere. There will soon be a permanent settlement here at McMurdo…”
“So you are saying the Anai should leave their culture, their heritage, and their homes behind, and give over the valley to murderous archaic dragon-like reptiles in the name of species preservation?” Scott sounded incredulous.
“No,” Lindholm said firmly. “The Geyser Valley belongs to the Anai. Nobody can encroach on that. The Antarctic Committee has voted on this unanimously.”
Scott looked around at them all. “People are more important than animals. Lives are more important than research. You’d do well to remember that. In the past, our government denied the Anai access to education, technology, and medical treatment in the name of keeping their culture intact. Now you would threaten their very existence for the sake of vicious monsters. I am ashamed of you.”
Fuming, Scott got up and strode out, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. He went downstairs, then out of the building, hardly noticing the freezing dry wind that whipped him in the face. He walked
in the direction of his own quarters, with the vague idea of sitting down to think, perhaps to draft an email for the Antarctic Committee. At the entrance to Building 155, he collided with someone.
“Hey, watch it,” a familiar voice said.
Scott looked up. “Sorry, Pete.”
Petri Karhu put down his toolbox, frowning at him. “What’s eating you, Scott?”
“A bunch of goddamn bureaucrats. They’re all pissing themselves with joy at the discovery of these living fossils, and refuse to see that the monsters won’t leave us in peace. I thought that the death of a man would finally make them take us seriously, but nope, no chance.”
Petri’s freckles stood darker against his cheekbones as he blanched. “The pterosaurs killed someone?”
“Ne Riorag. I don’t know if you recall him –“
“You bet I do! He’s the father of that prickly fellow, the tall one… he is dead?”
Petri had one hand on Scott’s shoulder and was steering him aside, in the direction of the almost-empty computer room. Petri put his toolbox down, and they sat down at one of the corner desks. “And they won’t allow you any firearms for self-defense?”
Scott shook his head. “Nope. They’re basically telling us to make way for the reptiles. Tahan is beside herself. We’re on our own, in the name of an endangered species,” he concluded bitterly.
“Right,” Petri nodded gravely. “Right… well, you sure won’t be sitting around waiting for the monsters to pick you off one by one, will you?”
“No, but it’s going to be a tough battle. Those creatures are as large as an elephant, not counting the wings and tail, they are damn good fliers. They are vicious, and they aren’t as dumb as we naturally thought pterosaurs would be. And the Anai weapons were developed for hunting, not fighting monsters. It’s like trying to block a burst dam with a goddamn bathtub stopper.”
Petri rubbed his cheek, deep in thought. “The legends of the Anai say that the valley used to house a whole clan of those creatures, right?”
“Yes, and other species as well. Many believe that the pterosaurs remember the valley, that they are wired to return to it like homing pigeons.”
