by Hannah Ross
Scott spent some time at the lab with Annette, and could not deny that the findings were most fascinating, but his thoughts were not entirely there. The concern about the fate of his people overruled the cold and detached interest of the scientist.
He walked out and, though the air was bitingly dry and cold, enjoyed the contrast between the carefully air-conditioned buildings of the research station, and the outdoors, which were great and magnificent and impossible to tame. The valley of the Anai was a miracle. A gift handed to ancient people who were brought to these foreign shores in search of a home. People who were given the chance of a new life, a new home, just as it seemed they were about to perish.
We will do what we must to protect ourselves. The Antarctic Committee will have to understand.
Scott shook his head. How fortunate it is that the course of evolution separated men and dinosaurs! Humankind would have stood a very poor chance against some of the vicious carnivorous giants… especially a species that, like the Antarctosaurus, was able to fly.
A sharp noise brought him out of his momentary reverie. That’s strange. Someone is whistling. But why does it sound from up above?
Then he realized what it was that he had just heard. With mingled disbelief and horror, Scott glanced up, and saw it. The sky above McMurdo was streaked with long, dark, winged silhouettes. There were no less than five or six, a pack this time, banded together to strike, circling the place and looking out for prey. No, no, it can’t be, not here.
Scott began to run. “Take cover!” he yelled as he bolted in the direction of Douglas’s office. Panic-stricken people were running amok in all direction. Someone had the good sense to sound the alarm, and its shrill, high-pitched noise reverberated throughout the station.
There was a whoosh of giant wings rustling downwards, and a gust of moving air blew against Scott’s cheek. Someone’s hand tugged forcefully on his sleeve, bringing him down behind a stack of fuel canisters. The beast swooped upon one of the maintenance men, a guy named Nigel Ward, and pinned him down to the ground with its deadly claws. Nigel’s desperate, blood-curdling screams were cut short as the reptile easily snapped his neck.
“Stay down, Scott. There’s nothing we can do unarmed,” someone panted in his ear. It was Petri Karhu, his English more thickly accented than usual. “Let’s crawl toward the building, nice and slow – don’t peek up if you value your life.”
All around them, sounds of havoc reigned as the pterosaurs turned the station into a slaughterhouse. Fighting nausea, Scott crawled on his elbows and knees, Petri alongside him. There were only a few yards separating them from the shelter of Building 155, but these seemed endless. Finally, they made a mad dash for the entrance door, hammering on it. It was opened a crack, and a dozen hands pulled them in, hurrying to close the door again. A crowd of people, petrified with helplessness, was collected near the entrance, watching the carnage through the reinforced glass with eyes wide open in horror.
“Lindholm! Goddamn it, is Lindholm here?” Scott bellowed, shouldering his way through the crowd.
“I’m here, Buck!” the tall, thin old man strode towards him. “I just made an emergency call to Wellington –“
“We can’t afford to wait for instructions from Wellington! The safe with the firearms – I know you have the access code! Anders, quick!”
Lindholm’s jaw twitched. “I no longer have the authority –“
His words were cut by a vicious snarl and a sickening scrap of razor-sharp claws on glass. One of the beasts was trying to force its way in. People backed down with shrieks of panic, trampling those behind them.
“Stay calm!” Lindholm bellowed. “Everything’s alright, that’s reinforced glass, they can’t break in –“
It seemed that, in the fear and confusion of the moment, nobody noticed what had struck Scott: They are trying to break in, though it’s doubtful they can smell us through the glass. They understand where we are hiding.
Suddenly, there was a loud boom, and countless colorful shards blossomed in the air, striking even against the well-lit sky. Another small explosion released long banners of colorful smoke. The pterosaur shrieked and rose up, evidently frightened.
“Someone is shooting fireworks!” Petri hollered. “Brilliant!”
Whoever it was, their idea was obviously working. Frightened by the loud noises and explosions of color, the giant reptiles began to back off. All but one rose up in the air again. Scott spun around, wanting to say something to Anders Lindholm, but someone bumped into him, hurrying towards the entrance door. It was Annette Geels, and she was holding something that looked like an air rifle. Open-mouthed, Scott watched her tear the entrance door open and bound outside before anyone could make a move to stop her.
Then there was a sharp bzzzzt sound, a vicious roar, and a great thud as the last of the pterosaurs had tumbled down. The rest flew up and away, shrieking with fear and fury. The fireworks had done their job.
Once the area was clear, people began to pour out of their shelters. Some of them carried firearms, belatedly handed out by the administration. All began to gather next to the great beast that lay upon the snowy ground, Annette standing next to it, panting and trembling. The rifle in her hand was a tranquilizer gun, and a dart protruded out of the pterosaur’s side, that rose and fell with every breath.
“Quick, someone, bring lots of thick strong rope and a large net to keep this thing immobilized!” Ray Douglas called out. “There’s no knowing how long the tranquilizer will work on the beast!”
“That,” someone said behind Scott and Petri, “was close.”
They turned around and saw Stanley the pilot. He smelled strongly of smoke. “Were the fireworks your job, Stan?”
“Yup,” he nodded. “A desperate act of a desperate man.”
“Good thinking.”
“Dr. Geels was pretty brave, too. For a moment I thought she lost her marbles, leaping out like that. I mean… what if the tranquilizer hadn’t worked fast enough?”
No less than twenty men were now working on the pterosaur, tying up its legs and locking its jaws with a powerful steel-wire net. “They’ll need a great big terrarium to keep that thing,” Scott observed. Petri gave a nervous laugh.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s go find Lindholm and make him pour us all a shot of Aquavit. We deserve it.”
Scott, Petri, Ray Douglas, Stanley and Anders Lindholm were grouped around the table in the overseer’s office. A half-empty bottle of Aquavit stood in the middle of the little table. Lindholm reached for it, refilled his shot glass, and brought it to his lips with a trembling hand.
“Never in all my life…” he said, trailed off, and drank some more. Four heads nodded in unison. There was no need to elaborate.
“It was an attack,” Scott said, and suddenly a current of tension broke through the alcohol-infused languor in the little office. “A deliberate attack on McMurdo. I hope nobody will deny this now.”
“Yes,” Lindholm said after a long pause. “But why?”
“I can only come up with one theory,” Petri said. “These creatures spied one of them being taken by helicopter here, and followed, hoping to rescue their… flock-mate, if I may define it so? They didn’t realize it was already dead.”
There was a long silence.
“To believe in that, we must presume intelligence,” Lindholm said. “Advanced intelligence that, until now, has only been attributed to mammal species living in complex social groups, such as dolphins, whales, and apes. I cannot conceive of a reptile acting or thinking this way.”
“Stan, did you see any of those flying lizards following you on your way back?” Petri asked.
Stan shook his head and took another sip of Aquavit. “Can’t say that I have. But this doesn’t mean much, you know. I was too focused on the way ahead. They might have trailed behind for all I know.”
“I think we have seen enough to be convinced these aren’t ordinary reptiles,” Scott said. “They are warm-blooded. Th
ey clearly use some means to communicate among themselves. Dr. Geels says their brain structure is remarkably similar to that of an advanced mammal. Clearly this is a representation of a unique path evolution has taken with this species… perhaps an example of what could happen to other dinosaur species if they had not become extinct.”
“Dr. Geels… where is she?” Douglas glanced around the table.
“I assume she is tending to her, er, newly acquired pet,” Lindholm said. “There is a large sturdy hangar she and her team are fitting up for that purpose. Of course, the creature will be held bound with strong chains.”
Douglas shuddered. “I can’t say I like the idea of this monster remaining at McMurdo.”
“Neither do I, but Dr. Geels is right. This is a unique opportunity to learn about these creatures. I did not dare to hope we’d be able to catch a live specimen.”
“This is all very fascinating,” Douglas said, “but I, personally, am not a scientist. I am an overseer. The safety and well-being of all McMurdo residents is my priority.”
“Dr. Geels promised she would be personally responsible…”
“… for this creature, yes, alright. But there are others, and we already know they can come. What are we going to do then? Stan here had a lucky idea with the fireworks,” Douglas raised his glass and toasted the pilot, “but it might not work next time. Then what?”
“We have to think about defenses,” Lindholm said. “An alarm code, some emergency safety regulations… I’d hold a staff meeting as soon as I work out the guidelines, if I were you.”
“And bring out the firearms,” Scott added.
Douglas shot him an alarmed look. “The Antarctic Treaty…”
“The hell with the Antarctic Treaty!” Petri burst out. “It wasn’t made up assuming that we ought to serve as dinner to vicious flying reptiles!”
Douglas cleared his throat. “I’ll contact Wellington shortly. This is too important a matter for me to resolve on my own.”
Lindholm stared into his glass to conceal his look of thinly veiled contempt. All knew what he was thinking: in all his years as general overseer at McMurdo, Anders Lindholm had very seldom consulted anyone. “You ought to have more confidence in your judgment, Ray,” he finally offered.
“I hope you will excuse me,” Scott said, getting up. “I’ll see how Dr. Geels is getting on. And then I need to make arrangements to start back. I might be needed in the valley.”
“I’ll come with you,” Petri said, getting up.
Together, they made their way to the hangar, which was fitted up as temporary housing for the Antarctosaurus. The creature, though still drugged, was coming around by stages, stirring and grunting. Its yellow eyes with the vertical iris were half-open. Annette, Chris and Adam were standing nearby, frantically taking notes on their iPads.
“I’d be more careful if I were you, Annette,” Scott cautioned. “Keep your distance. It might attack as soon as it’s awake, and you don’t know how long the tranquilizer will keep working.”
Annette turned to him, her face glowing with enthusiasm. “I can hardly believe we were able to capture it. It’s unhurt, as far as I can tell… with it, and the specimen that was dissected earlier, we’ll soon know all there is to know about the Antarctosaurus!”
“Are you sure these chains will hold?” Scott queried, looking at the pegs and chains with a skeptical eye.
“Oh yes. These are very strong. And just in case, one of us will remain on watch near the creature at all times with a tranquilizer gun at hand. We’ll take it down if there’s the least sign of danger.”
“Well,” Scott nodded doubtfully, “I can only hope you know what you are doing. Because you have to face it, Annette… you were wrong.”
“About what?” She looked him full in the face.
“About these creatures. They are far more intelligent than you thought. They can think, communicate and plan. And they can hold a grudge.”
Annette gave a nervous little laugh. “You are taking this too far, Scott. There’s no doubt that the Antarctosaurus far surpasses the intelligence of all other reptiles, but all the same, to say that…”
They were interrupted by a low, angry hiss. Still half-conscious, the beast in front of them tried to free itself. Its awareness of its surroundings increased by the second, and its fury with it. It staggered up on all fours, threw back its head, flapped its wings, and gave a mighty roar. It tugged on the chains with all its might, causing a rattling, screeching sound. Then it let out a shriek of anger and frustration and tugged again. The chains held. Everybody let out a long breath. Chris’s fingers were trembling on the trigger of the tranquilizer gun.
“And how long do you intend to keep up this little, er, reptile house?” Scott asked.
“I’m not sure. The facilities are inadequate, certainly. And we’ll need to feed it… I assume frozen meat will do, but the quantities a creature of this size will consume… I will contact Wellington for an emergency shipment of meat. We’ll keep it here for a while and study it. Then I imagine it won’t be too difficult to tranquilize it, transport it by helicopter and release it back into the wild.”
Scott looked at the Antarctosaurus again. The depth of the creature’s bright yellow, vicious gaze was unsettling. It didn’t strain or shriek anymore, but bared its jaws in a long, menacing hiss, much like a cornered dog. Scott felt a shiver pass down his spine and all the way into his toes.
“Good luck, Annette,” he finally said, before turning around and leaving the hangar.
Scott had wanted to return to the valley on the same day, and was prepared to take the snowmobile, but that did not prove possible. A blizzard started, and the risk of a solitary journey to AN-85 just wasn’t worth it. Reconciled to the delay, he walked through the station, where maintenance workers were dealing with clean-up and repairs.
There were also other, more macabre tasks. Five people were dead, and there was a dilemma as to where they should be buried. There was no burial ground at McMurdo, and no time to negotiate the matter with the Antarctic Committee. Finally, the message from Wellington ordered to keep the bodies until an airplane bearing coffins would come to take them away. In the meantime, Ray Douglas was charged with the sad task of contacting the families of the deceased and breaking the terrible news.
There were many wounded, too, some trampled by the pterosaurs, some injured in the panic of the escape. The little hospital at the station had no spare beds left, and was gearing up to work around the clock. Petri Karhu, who had had some training as a paramedic, volunteered to help and went away, equipped by a thermos of strong black coffee.
Scott proceeded to his quarters and laid his head on the pillow. He needed sleep badly, but his brain was buzzing, and scenes of the carnage kept appearing beneath his closed eyelids. This is a nightmare. A nightmare. The curtains were drawn against the light and the room was quiet, but he could have no peace, not until he returned home. Finally, he did sink into a fitful sleep, only to be woken a few hours later by an urgent buzz of an incoming call. He bolted upright and stared at the screen of his cell phone. It could only be a local call.
“Hello?” he said, still groggy with sleep.
“Scott…” Annette’s voice was trembling with excitement. “Come at once! Now! You must see this!”
It didn’t sound as though another disaster had happened, so Scott allowed himself to exhale. “Care to tell me what this is about?”
“It’s impossible. Come now!”
Shrugging, he pulled on his outdoor parka and hurried downstairs. Nominally, it was night, but the sun was high and the sky as bright as ever, and the station was buzzing with activity. Scott made his way to the hangar, where he presumed Annette was. He found her, with Chris and Adam, and Anders Lindholm, in a state of wild excitement as they stared at the chained-up beast crouched in a corner.
“She is calmer now,” Annette told him by way of greeting. “We managed to get her to taste some meat, and she isn’t trying to break t
he chains anymore.”
“She?” Scott raised an eyebrow. “How can you tell?”
Annette was about to answer, but at that moment, the creature moved slightly and rose up, hovering above the spot where it was crouching. Scott’s breath caught in his throat. Right there, at the corner of the hangar, there was a clutch of enormous, bluish spotted eggs.
“She just laid them all one after another,” Annette told him breathlessly. “I couldn’t believe my eyes! I imagine that they usually make a nest, but the stress must have caused her to lay prematurely. I just hope this doesn’t affect the viability of the eggs. Oh, I can’t believe our luck. This is more than I dared to hope for.”
“How many are there?” Scott asked, caught up in her enthusiasm despite himself.
“Ten, as far as we were able to count.”
Anders Lindholm sidled closer and clapped him on the shoulder. “I must agree with Dr. Geels now. The key to understanding these creatures’ behavior is in observing them. And to think that we might be able to see the young ones at the moment of hatching! It is beyond fantastic.”
“But how long will it take them to hatch?” Scott queried. “I thought you didn’t plan to keep the mother for very long.”
“You’re right,” Annette nodded. “This is what I had in mind. We’ll keep her here a few days. Clearly, as they are warm-blooded, this means they keep their eggs warm. We will measure her body temperature, humidity, everything. Then we’ll tranquilize and release her into the wild, and keep the clutch. It won’t be too difficult to set up a large incubator. Then we can hatch the eggs ourselves, and raise and tame the young ones.”
“Isn’t it a brilliant idea?” Adam added.
Scott couldn’t think of a more insane plan, but arguing would be futile, so he kept his opinion to himself.