by Adam Carter
“Dinosaurs don’t care about the rain, Travers,” he scoffed.
“Animals don’t bask in thunderstorms.”
“Ah, but these aren’t animals, Travers. These are the gods of the animal kingdom.”
The last thing Travers wanted was another discussion about science verses religion. “Would you like to help analyse some of these rocks perhaps? The sooner we get the rocks sorted, the sooner we can move onto deeper exploration.”
Monroe snorted at the thought. He had come here to see the dinosaurs, even though their expedition had nothing to do with dinosaurs. Travers had been charged with discovering the secrets of Ceres. The dinosaurs were only helpful to her research if they were fossilised, and the excavation methods they were using had frightened off any local animals so it did not seem as though Monroe would get to see any of them at all.
“We’ve been here too long,” Monroe complained, “and the biggest thing I’ve seen so far has been a bird.”
“A prehistoric bird though.”
“I didn’t come here to look at birds, Travers.”
“What about the rahonavis?”
“That doesn’t count. We ate it. Besides, it wasn’t a dinosaur either.”
Travers had never really been interested in dinosaurs. She had of course always known about the fabled dinosaur world of Ceres, but had never had any inclination to ever want to visit the place. She could imagine that Monroe had grown up in his spoiled existence being given everything he so wished. As he reached adulthood he clearly wanted to see a living dinosaur, and the only place to do that would be Ceres. It was a pipedream for most, but since Monroe was rich it was a somewhat more plausible attainment for him. A part of Travers felt he only wanted to do it so he could rub everyone else’s noses in his achievement. Especially considering it was illegal to ever visit Ceres. She still had no idea how he had wrangled their expedition, but was not about to question the results.
“If you want to wander in the rain looking for a wild triceratops, be my guest. But I guarantee they’ve all found somewhere dry to hide.”
“Then you’re certain there are triceratopses in the area?” he asked eagerly.
Travers had never mastered sarcasm, and had perhaps laced her words with too much of the truth. “There are a lot of ceratopsian species in this area,” she said, indicating an especially large rock behind him. Within could be seen the unmistakable protrusion of fossilised bone, and it formed a crest which had belonged to what she believed to have been a diceratops. Indeed, she had identified at least six different ceratopsian species within a two mile radius of their camp. Whether any of them were still alive she could not say, for she was examining only what she had dug from the soil and stone. Garrel had reported several discoveries during their time here, but had never taken Monroe out with her to investigate any of them. Travers did not know much about Garrel but clearly the woman understood Monroe well enough.
Monroe seemed to mellow, his body was no longer fired by his intense eagerness to see some real live dinosaurs, and she could sense he was about to say something to make her feel as though they were friends. “How’s the research going?” he asked. That would do.
“Well,” she replied, “but slowly. I’m getting conflicting results, but then that’s probably due to all the quakes.” When she could see he did not understand, she added, “The rocks shift when the world does, so everything under the topsoil is a mess. We can’t just dig down a quarter mile in one area and find detritus from the same time period as digging down a quarter mile in another.”
“Oh.”
She could see he still did not understand but did not much care. Ceres was an odd world and no one really knew where it had come from. Years ago some long-forgotten people had dragged some of the larger asteroids from the belt and fused them before hurling the resultant mess into orbit around Jupiter. There were various theories as to why someone would have done such a thing. The cost of terraforming a smaller world was always far less than terraforming a larger one, so that may have been one reason. Also, each moon of Jupiter had been claimed by various companies and countries as their own personal property, and short of waging war against an entire world the easiest way to get one was to form a new one. Neither of those theories made much sense to Travers, since by the time the world would have been ready for habitation generations would have gone by. In her experience people tended to care more for themselves than for future generations, unless of course it was currently politically fashionable to do so.
There were many other theories, and Travers had researched most of them prior to coming here. There were various religious orders which believed Ceres to be a holy land, and it was because of these that many believed the world was at last declared off-limits. Most were harmless enough, and featured Ceres as a show of their god’s (or gods’) divine intervention by creating a new world and populating it. Most vocal were the fanatics of the Church of Themisto, but they were from such a small moon that Travers was hardly concerned with their intervention.
And then of course there were the dinosaurs. Even after Ceres had been formed, it would have been many, many years before it would have been ready for population; and when it finally was ready someone had seen fit to introduce all manner of extinct species to the world. No one even understood how, since dinosaur cloning was obviously a ludicrous concept. That was why many believed Ceres to be a myth, or at least the dinosaurs living upon it. Ceres itself was rocked with constant quakes where the various asteroids tried to prise themselves apart; it was easily the most dangerous environment in the entire solar system. And that was even before one considered the dinosaurs.
Travers had been given the task of uncovering some of these answers. She intended at the very least to discover how long Ceres had been here. If she could figure out a date they might be able to work out who had formed the world, and if they could do that they may even be able to figure out why. Her mission, of course, had nothing to do with the dinosaurs, despite Monroe wanting to catalogue all the animal species. If they didn’t meet a single animal between now and the time they left Ceres, Travers would have been exceptionally happy.
And Monroe would have been depressingly miserable.
She could foresee the religious people being especially annoyed at her discoveries, whatever they were.
The door opened then and Travers was grateful to see her assistant enter. Tom Allen may have been slightly annoying, but he was eager and knew his stuff. Thankfully he also knew a few things about dinosaurs, which meant Travers could often palm off Monroe onto him so she could get on with her work. She caught Allen’s eye and tried to indicate that was just what she wanted right now, and they had gone through this so many times already that Allen knew the drill.
“Evening, professors,” he said, dropping his pack on a table before turning his attention to the diceratops remains. “Man, what a specimen, huh, Professor?”
Monroe moved across to him, not looking all that pleased at Allen’s intrusion, but Travers knew he quite liked the boy.
“Have you seen any ceratopsians out there, lad?” Monroe asked hopefully.
“No, sir. But Sara and I just came back from a fight with an angry ankylosaur.”
Travers winced, having wished Allen hadn’t mentioned that. Travers had noticed something and had sent Sara Garrel to investigate, but had not expected her to take Allen with her. The youth seemed to have returned none the worse for wear, however, so there was no harm done.
“Ankylosaur?” Monroe asked, eager to know more. “What kind?”
“Oh, uh ... I don’t know. Sara did say, but I’m not sure I caught it. It ended in saurus if that helps any.”
“Not really, no.”
“Began with T. Talasaurus or something.”
“Talarurus?” Monroe asked excitedly. “You actually saw a talarurus?”
“Nearly got eaten by one as well. You should have seen how Sara dealt with it.”
“That, my boy, must have been a sight you
’ll never forget.”
Allen’s face took on a look of faraway happiness. “Yeah.”
“I want you to take me out to where you saw it.”
“I ... Huh? We barely escaped, sir. And it’s raining.”
“Why are you archaeologists so afraid of a little wet weather?”
Travers glanced to the window, not much liking where this conversation was turning. “That’s not just a little wet weather, Albert. If it keeps up like this we could end up with flooding of the excavation site.”
“Which would mean having to move to other sites?”
“Don’t be getting any ideas.”
Monroe seemed about to argue, although once more he relaxed and said, “You’re absolutely right, Professor. Well, I’ve disturbed you enough. I should let you get back to your work.”
Travers could not agree with him more, although did not like his sudden change of heart. Nor did she much like the way he placed his arm around Allen’s shoulder and led him from the room. She could not think Allen would be stupid enough to take Monroe out during the storm, but there were so many things on Ceres which surprised her she was beginning to worry already.
Outside the window, thunder cracked loudly, the voice of the gods in their anger. Travers could not have said who had formed Ceres and why, but there was no mistaking that the king of the gods, Jupiter himself, watched over the strange world. Jupiter was one god with whom no science could ever hope to contend.
CHAPTER THREE
He may have been young, but Tom Allen was not stupid. He knew Garrel didn’t think all that much of him, but Travers valued his work and complimented him often. Of course, he was her only assistant, and one of the conditions for this expedition to be green-lit was that Travers only brought the one assistant. That Allen had been chosen proved he was good at his job, and he would not let himself think otherwise. He would have been the first to admit, however, that his attention had begun to waver somewhat the more time they spent here. Sara Garrel wasn’t just the only woman on the entire world aside from Travers, she was also incredibly fit. She knew how to handle herself, knew everything about the terrain and survival, could pull apart an engine and put it all back together with enough spare parts to create something else as well. She was, in short, amazing, and Allen wasn’t just in love, he was infatuated.
Of course, Garrel didn’t see it that way. She thought he was an annoyance, and perhaps he even was. He knew he was always underfoot, but then he was just so pleased to help her in anything that he would give the task one hundred and ten per cent. Not that that was possible, but the principle was there. He just wished he could think of a way to impress Garrel, to make her see that he wasn’t just some gawky kid always trying to make her notice him. Besides, he was twenty-two: it was a long time since he had considered himself a kid and wished he could stop behaving like one.
“You’re trying too hard, lad,” Professor Monroe said as he poured some tea. The two had retired to Monroe’s somewhat opulent chambers, and the Professor had insisted on brewing them some tea. Allen had always been fascinated by all the things cluttering Monroe’s chambers and had no idea why he wanted half the stuff with him. The books he could understand, but there were at least five hundred of the things, and no one could read five hundred books in just the short time they would be here. He had also brought his collection of sticks. He did not know whether they actually were sticks, but they certainly looked like them. Each was around a metre in length. Some were polished, others rough, and Allen could not fathom what they could be used for. Walking sticks, he assumed, and could just imagine Monroe strolling through the civilised streets wearing his top hat, wielding a cane.
Right now all he was really concerned about was Garrel.
“Women are like dogs, my lad,” Monroe continued.
“I’m sure she’d be ecstatic to hear you say that.”
Monroe smiled. “Probably not the best analogy, but hear me out. When treated well they return affection, they roll over, fetch your slippers and play all the little games you love to play. But as soon as you kick one they’ll tear your throat out.”
Allen opened his mouth to say something, closed it, opened it, closed it and finally said, “Say what?”
“All right, a terrible analogy, but truer than you might realise. Have a digestive.”
Allen took a digestive from the plate he was being offered. “How do I make a good impression on Sara though? I mean, she doesn’t like me too much.”
“She doesn’t loathe you, lad. She’s just going through a rough patch. Recently divorced, you know.”
“Really?” Allen could not think of how anyone could divorce such a woman. “So that means she’s single though?”
“It means she’s wary of being stung again. When she falls for another man, it’s going to have to be the right man.”
“Right.”
“Which brings us to the question. What are you after from her, lad?”
“Uh ...”
“I don’t mean that. I meant long-term. Are you after a genuine lasting relationship or just a bit of rumpy-pumpy in the jungle.”
“Does it matter?”
“To a woman? Yes.”
“Oh.” Allen had met many girls over the years, but had only ever known a handful intimately. All the girls he had ever been with had been fun-loving party-goers looking for a quick thrill. His longest relationship had lasted about three months, and that was only if he was being generous with his memories. In all honesty he had never given much thought to what Garrel may have wanted from their relationship. She was a woman, where all the others he had ever been with had been girls. It seemed such an obvious thing, and he felt somewhat embarrassed that it took someone else to point it out to him.
“She likes you,” Monroe said. “You have to see that as a good start.”
“She likes me?”
“Yes.”
“How can you tell?”
“She took you with her today didn’t she? And she risked her life to save yours. Sure, she might argue with you, but you only argue with people you feel something for. Otherwise she wouldn’t care about your opinion.”
“What if all she feels for me is ire?”
“Then she would have hit you by now. Hard. Has she ever hit you hard?”
“No, sir.”
“Well then,” he grinned, dunking a digestive, “she likes you.”
Allen tried to think through this logic, for it was not entirely faultless. Still, Monroe was the only other man on this world and unless he was willing to talk with Professor Travers about it (which he wasn’t), Monroe was all he had. “What can I do then?” Allen asked. “What impresses an actual woman?”
“Drinking six pints in two minutes won’t do it for one thing.”
Allen winced, wondering how he had been so transparent.
“Gestures,” Monroe continued. “Nice gestures which don’t seem like bribery. Pick her some flowers.”
“Ceres is modelled after various prehistoric landscapes, sir. There are no flowers here.”
“Then pick her some ferns.”
“She’s not an apatosaurus.”
“A gem then. You’re an archaeologist, you must be able to find something valuable from under the ground.”
Allen considered that. There would only be anything of real interest if Ceres was at one time populated, but gemstones formed naturally and there was a chance he might be able to find something at least. And since Ceres was not a natural world there was a chance, however slight, that it might produce jewels unseen anywhere else in the entire solar system.
“That’s the spirit,” Monroe enthused, seeing his face brighten at the possibilities.
“There’s nothing at our current dig-site though,” Allen said.
“Then that’s a shame. Couldn’t you try digging somewhere else?”
“Professor Travers isn’t keen on moving the operation too far out.”
“What if she had to?”
“S
ir?”
“Well, if she doesn’t find what she’s after here, we could always move the entire camp. It would be a pain, but it’s certainly doable.”
“And I could find my gems.”
“Precisely.”
Allen considered all of this. It was certainly worth a try, although he knew Travers would not like the idea one bit.
“There’s an alternative,” Monroe said, thinking aloud. “An alternative to moving the entire camp, that is. If we can avoid that, I think we should. Neither of the ladies would be too happy with all the extra work.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, the two of us could go together. Not far, but maybe a couple of miles out. We could take the buggy Garrel’s been modifying.”
“What could the two of us accomplish though? We can’t take the excavation equipment, it’s too heavy.”
“No, but maybe there’s better excavation equipment out there.”
“You think there are more people on Ceres, sir?”
“No. And if there are, they’re here illegally and would likely kill us to maintain our silence. But I didn’t mean people,” he quickly added. “The world itself could help us.”
“Ceres?”
“Ceres is unstable. One thing I’ve noticed is that if you dig a quarter mile in one area you’ll get different results than if you dug a quarter mile in another area.”
Allen knew precisely what he meant and was impressed the man had come up with that. He knew Travers did not much favour Monroe because his title was honorary rather than earned, but Allen had always found the man charming and sincere. “The quakes could well have pulled all manner of things to the surface,” Allen said.
“Remember, tectonic shifts make mountains.”
Allen did not like to correct him, but there was no proof that Ceres even had tectonic plates. That was one of the things the expedition was out to prove, and the main reason Professor Travers was not willing to burrow too far through the rock. Ordinary worlds were formed of thick crusts, beneath which igneous rock flowed. Beneath this was the molten core of the world. Everyone assumed Ceres operated under the same principle, but since it was manmade no one was certain. Their machines could slam through the rock instantly: it wasn’t as though they were digging with spades. As such they did not want to accidentally punch all the way through to the core and set off a chain reaction which would destroy the entire world. They knew Ceres suffered quakes, but beyond that there was only speculation at the moment.
