by Jodi Taylor
‘Well?’ he said. ‘Are you interested?’ I could almost hear my own excitement. I looked at Sussman’s flushed face. He grinned at me.
‘Sir,’ I said. ‘We will climb over the cold, dead bodies of our colleagues for this one.’
He smiled grimly. ‘Shouldn’t you inquire if it’s safe? Or even possible?’
‘If you think it’s do-able, sir, then that’s good enough for me.’
He sat forward and handed us the files and data.
‘You should find everything you need here. Certainly enough to get you started. I want to see a mission plan here in my office at 0930 on Friday. You may allocate mission responsibilities as you think fit. I estimate a preparation period of about three months, three months on-site and around two weeks to work up your data and present your findings. Miss Maxwell will head the mission. Are there any questions at this moment?’
We both shook our heads. I was still gobsmacked and Sussman knew better than to talk in front of the Boss. We withdrew.
We filed sedately through Mrs Partridge’s office, feeling her stare on our backs. We walked quietly along the corridor and slowly down the stairs. We entered the Library, nodded politely to Dr Dowson, who was peering into a microfiche reader and again to Professor Rapson, muttering to himself in the Early Mesopotamian section. We dropped our files on one of the big data tables to establish ownership, climbed out of the window, walked casually down the path and into the sunken rock garden, where we finally took a breath.
I jumped onto a bench, lifted my head to the grey sky and shouted ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ and began to sing, ‘We are the champions,’ and play air guitar. Sussman cartwheeled off down the path and back again, whooping incoherently. I jumped off the bench, met him as he straightened up and the two of us hugged, jumping up and down together until we got tangled up and fell over. I was on the bottom, still shouting ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ as Chief Farrell came around the corner. The ground never opens up and swallows you when you need it to.
There was a fairly crowded silence and then he said politely, ‘Good morning, Miss Maxwell and whoever that is. May I be of any assistance?’
Sussman was shaking with laughter and deliberately keeping his face hidden, so I looked over his shoulder and said, ‘Good morning, Chief. No, everything’s fine, thank you. We’re just having a small celebration.’
‘What do you do for large celebrations?’
‘Oh, we really let rip for those, Chief. This is only a 2.5 on the Richter Scale.’
Eventually, we calmed down, climbed back in through the window and got down to it. We were laying out our files when Kalinda and Peterson turned up. Word had already got around.
‘What have you got?’ demanded Kal. ‘Come on, is it a Big Job?’
I grinned at Sussman. ‘You have no idea.’
‘What? What have you got? Don’t make me come over there!’
I took a deep breath, savouring the moment. Once I told Kal and Peterson it would be all around the unit in minutes. Or less.
‘It’s a big one,’ I admitted. ‘In fact, it’s the Big Job. Three months full study, climate, geology, flora, fauna, even a star map. The works.’
She grinned at me and I could see my own excitement reflected in her eyes. ‘Flora? Fauna? When? Where? What have you got? Jesus I’m going to kill the pair of you in a minute.’
‘Guess,’ said Sussman.
‘Oh God, I don’t know. Flora, fauna … something biological. The Beagle! You’re going to the Galapagos.’
Sussman snorted with derision. ‘Oh, come on Kal, look at our specialties. I’m early Byzantine and Max doesn’t even get out of bed for anything after the Peloponnesian Wars.’
‘Well, not Troy. The two of you would be screaming from the rooftops. Egypt? Mesopotamia? Oh, I know. The Great Rift Valley. You’re going to study the early migrations.’
‘You don’t know the half of it. Way further back than that.
‘Jeez, I don’t know. What?’
I drew deep breath, feeling it all bubbling up again. ‘The Cretaceous Period. Sixty-seven million years ago, give or take. We’re going to live with the dinosaurs!’
And then again, the two of us were jigging about like a pair of idiots, chanting, ‘We’re going to see a T-rex, a T-rex, a T-rex,’ until Dr Dowson frowned gently at us.
They stared. I could see the conflict. Envy competing with shock. I didn’t blame them. Something similar was going through my mind. Peterson, the sensible one (and imagine a group where Peterson is the sensible one), said quietly, ‘But have you thought? It’s so far back.’
I knew what he meant. The further back you go, the fewer reference points there are. How do you know if you’ve gone back twenty, thirty, sixty, one hundred million years without a handy newspaper or dress shop opposite? And, although this was ridiculous, I think we all instinctively felt the invisible cord, our trail of breadcrumbs, our route home stretched thinner and thinner the further back we went. Sixty-seven million years ago (give or take) would stretch it very thin indeed, possibly to breaking point.
Kal had been too quiet too long. ‘Max, it’s so far. Far further back than anything we’ve ever done before. Aren’t you just a bit worried?’
‘It shouldn’t make any difference. Yesterday, or sixty-seven million years, they’re the same; you know that. Look on the bright side; we’re far more likely to be eaten by the indigenous fauna than lost in time.’
She sighed. ‘Do you guys need a hand?’
‘Not at the moment. We need to look through the parameters now, but we’ll almost certainly need you at some point.’
‘How long’s your lead-in?’
‘Three months.’
She blinked. ‘Yes, it would be, I suppose. We’ve got late 19th-century Vienna and we’ll be there and back before you’ve even set off.’
‘I hope you’ll be here when we go,’ I said and Sussman nodded.
‘Of course we will. Give us a shout if you need us.’ And they wandered off, presumably to spread the word.
We got stuck in again and set up the categories.
The star map; they wanted to map the night sky. Conditions would be ideal with no light pollution. I had no idea how different the stars would be all that time ago, but now was a good time to find out, I suppose. However, we’d need horizon-to-horizon vision, so we wouldn’t want to be in the middle of a forest. Ideally, we could set up on the pod roof and just leave the equipment to do its thing. I made a note to talk to the Chief about co-ordinates and how much control we would have. None, I guessed. We would almost certainly land in some boggy swamp, or under water. Don’t think about that. We colour-coded that black and moved on.
We looked at climate next, dividing that down into sub-sections, temperature, wind, rain etc. Oxygen levels would be important. I’d heard CO2 levels were higher then. Too high and moving all our kit around would be difficult. I made another note to talk to Helen about high-altitude medication. Climate was allocated blue.
Geology would be interesting. I wanted that one for myself, although I wouldn’t be telling Sussman that. There would be a certain amount of horse-trading and almost certainly tears before bedtime. We couldn’t bring anything back, so all samples must be photographed, catalogued and analysed on-site. That meant even more equipment. And from what I could remember, the period was seismically active, so we could add being enveloped in pyroclastic flows to our list of fun ways to die. Geology was imaginatively coded brown.
Flora: again no samples; only photos, images and on the spot analysis. No grass, if I remembered rightly and lots of coniferous forests, though broad-leafed trees did exist. And flowers had evolved too, so we could expect big, stingy insects. Yay! Flora got green.
And so to the biggie – fauna; a field so big we decided to spend a week or so on research before coming up with a plan. Fauna was orange.
‘Like techies,’ said Sussman. ‘Big and clumsy with small brains.’
I frowned at him. ‘Don’t do that, Davey
.’
‘Oh, I forgot, you actually talk to them, don’t you?’
‘Davey …’
‘Well, I’m just saying, I wouldn’t want my sister to marry one.’
‘You haven’t got a sister and if you did she’d slap you senseless if you tried any of that crap on her, so give it a rest.’
He sat back in his chair. ‘You’re the boss; so who gets what, then?’
This was where he could be difficult if not carefully managed. ‘What do you want? Make a case. And don’t cherry-pick all the good stuff for yourself.’
‘I’d like the star map. I could do a good job there. You know I could. I’ll talk to Barclay about it. She’s red-hot at this sort of thing. She tells me what she wants and I set the equipment accordingly. Then I can liaise again when we get back. We’ll input the data and project a moving star map. It could be spectacular, Max and I’d like to do it.’
I thought. He was right. He certainly got on better with Barclay. They could produce something really exceptional. I nodded. ‘Yes, agreed. I’ll leave it with you, but I want daily updates and full training. If anything happens to you then I’m your back-up.’
His face lit up. ‘That’s great, Max. It’ll be the dog’s bollocks. You just wait.’ He paused and I knew. This was it. This was what he really wanted.
‘The dinosaurs … I’m thinking we could do something similar.’
I started to shake my head.
‘No, listen Max. We could do something along the lines of ‘A day in the Life of …’ We’ve done statics for junior schools – A Day in the Life of a Medieval Peasant or a Roman Soldier or an Egyptian Stone Mason, you know the sort of thing. We can set up near a waterhole or some centre of activity. We’ll have everything coming down to drink, or bathe, or whatever they do. And there’ll be fights and kills and sex and cute babies. Max, just think, if we could pull it off, we can do a 3D holo for this. People could actually look up at some thumping great reptile as it passes twenty feet above them. We’ll have sound as well and the computer can add vibrations, even the smell of dinosaur shit. Barclay can work all that out. Come on Max, it’ll be awesome!’
It would too; images of actual dinosaurs, living, walking; a dinosaur experience. It was a brilliant idea, but he wasn’t going to get it easily.
I leaned forward. ‘OK, here’s the thing. I agree, but it’s huge. It’s adding huge to an already huge workload. Thirsk have paid for this and they’ll want what they paid for, which is just unspectacular, boring, raw data; otherwise the shit will really hit the fan. I don’t want you spending all your time on this while I’m disappearing up my own arse like the backward-flying bird of fable trying to get all the other stuff done.’ I leaned back. He nodded.
‘Look,’ I said. ‘I’ll do climate and geology,’ as if conferring a huge favour. ‘You do the star map, which you want anyway. You can do flora, which I don’t fancy. We’ll both have to do fauna because it’s big.’
‘And the holo?’
I pretended to consider, turning the corners of my mouth down.
‘Oh, Max, come on. I tell you what, you let me do the holo and I’ll do all the housekeeping. All of it. And I’ll talk to Barclay about the star map specs so you don’t have to and then you can talk to the Chief about the pod, equipment, layout etc., so I don’t have to. It’s perfect.’
It bloody was, too. Game, set and match.
We shook hands on it and went for a late lunch.
We were, of course, the centre of attention. Sussman loved every minute of it. Professor Rapson dropped an extensive research programme on the table that would mean us not sleeping from now until the end of the next millennium. Major Guthrie produced a massive survival training schedule. I decided to forge a sick note. The Chief congratulated us with a handshake and a request that at least one of us attend sessions on pod and equipment familiarisation.
The next day I settled myself in a study carrel and began to review the material I would want uploaded to subliminal reference tapes. There was a lot; tons of it actually. I called up Gorecki’s 3rd Symphony and as Dawn Upshaw let rip, I got stuck in.
I was roused, hours later by Doctor Dowson, part of whose job was to ensure historians didn’t lose all track of time and become welded to the furniture. Stumbling stiffly off for a drink, I met Chief Farrell and we took our tea outside into the sunshine.
Gradually a routine developed. I spent the mornings researching, broke for lunch, usually with Chief Farrell, took my data to Barclay’s team for uploading, spent an hour or so discussing equipment operation with the technical section and rounded off the afternoon with Professor Rapson, setting up the next few days’ research programmes. After which, I collected my tapes from Barclay, had a working dinner with Sussman when we updated each other, grabbed a drink with him or Kal and Peterson, went to my room and wallowed in a long bath while playing the tapes (during which I usually fell asleep), before toppling into bed, entangled in my earpieces.
In between all this, I assisted Kal and Peterson setting themselves up for late 19th-century Vienna, debriefed them when they got back and saved Sussman’s life when he told Kal her bum looked big in a bustle. We updated our field medic skills and I began to talk to the furniture.
Having got what he wanted, Sussman knuckled down and got with the programme. He also got Barclay off my back for which I was grateful. I repaid him by ensuring Farrell dealt mainly with me which was no problem at all for either of us. The Chief and I usually lunched together and, when weather permitted, we sat outside against a sunny wall scoffing sandwiches. By unspoken agreement we didn’t talk work during lunch hours, preferring to take half an hour or so just to think about something else. Sometimes we didn’t talk at all, sitting with our faces turned towards the sun. ‘Like daffodils,’ I said on one occasion.
‘What?’ he said, laughing. ‘Daffodils?’
At that moment, Dieter said, ‘Hold it,’ and a camera flashed. He looked down and tinkered a little. ‘Yes, it’s working fine now.’
‘Let’s have a look,’ said Farrell. ‘Not bad. Do you want a copy?’
‘Yes please,’ I said. There were very few photos of me in this world and even fewer in which I didn’t look either drunk or criminally insane and this one had him in it as well. A couple of days later it appeared in my pigeon hole in a neat frame. I put it next to the Horse.
It was a lovely day. I spent a little longer than usual over lunch and most of the techies had disappeared for the regular Friday afternoon football match. I leaned back against the wall in the sun and closed my eyes, savouring the peace and quiet. No one was around and I was half asleep when someone sat down on the ground next to me. I knew who it would be without opening my eyes.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi yourself,’ he said, offering me half his sandwiches. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
He wrapped them back up again and put them down. ‘This is peaceful.’
‘Mm …’
The far-off sounds of violence receded in the afternoon sunshine. I enjoyed a pleasant feeling of isolation.
‘Miss Maxwell. Max …’
‘Mm …’ I said again.
‘Are you awake?’
‘Mm …’
‘I’ve been looking for an opportunity to talk to you; sometime when you’re not drunk, or obsessing about something. Sometime when you’re listening.’
‘I’m listening,’ I said, a little indignantly, because really, I hadn’t been.
The long silence made me open my eyes. ‘Chief, I’m here, awake, listening. Is there a problem?’
‘It’s not always all about work, you know.’
‘What is it all about, then?’
‘You’re happy here, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I said, surprised. ‘Why do you ask?’ I sat up suddenly. ‘Are they cancelling the mission? Are we looking at redundancies?’
‘No, no,’ he said quickly. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t panic.’
&nb
sp; ‘It’s an historian thing. And it’s not just any old panic. It’s highly trained panic. It’s taken years of hard work and practice. Please don’t mock.’
‘My apologies. Speaking as your primary trainer, it’s gratifying to see my poor efforts bearing fruit.’
‘So when historians are rioting in the streets, you must be absolutely over the moon.’
‘To drag the conversation back on track …’
‘Yes, sorry Chief. You wanted me.’
He looked taken aback for a moment before pulling himself together. ‘Do you remember when we met?’
‘Yes, on my first day here. You were coming down the stairs.’
He said, ‘You’ve come a long way since then. You stood in front of me, radiating attitude and defiance and now look at you, heading up the most important assignment we’ve ever had. I’m very proud of you.’
No one had ever been proud of me before. No happy, smiling family at my graduation. He stared out over the gardens. I wondered what on earth was going on.
‘Chief, is there a problem with the assignment?’
‘No, everything’s fine with the assignment. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, we’re getting there slowly. Not long now. I can hardly believe it.’
‘The experience of a lifetime?’
‘No, that will be Troy.’
‘Apart from Troy, do you have any plans for the future?’
‘Oh, yes. Thermopylae. Agincourt. Ramses the Great. Don’t get me started.’
‘No, I mean plans that do not actually involve St Mary’s.’
‘Well, no, not really.’
‘Do you see yourself doing this for ever, then?’
‘That’s a bit unlikely. I mean, none of us make old bones, do we? Look at poor old Kevin Grant.’
‘And yet you still …’
‘Well, as either Achilles or Kurt Cobain would probably have said, “A short life but a merry one.”’
‘Do you really mean that? Don’t you see yourself moving into a more – conventional line of work? Or what about a family?’