by Jodi Taylor
I wandered over to the Chief and his crew who were hunched over a table-top holo. A voice was saying, ‘And if we put doors at each end then the plant, equipment, whatever, rolls on and then rolls off. No reversing. We get the equipment out and the empty space doubles as a working area. Then we can put living quarters on a second floor, or a mezzanine, out of the way. That way, the tanks can go over here …’ There was a storm of protest.
I left them arguing and went over to Guthrie.
‘I’m saying we can’t use foam – too modern. We can’t use water, either – there’s no point in saving the books from burning by drowning them. We need fire mats – get Professor Rapson to see what they should be made from. And poles with hooks on. And wooden ladders, but we should be able to treat those with some sort of flame retardant …’
‘But what about protective gear? What do we wear? Do we have to fight the fire in sandals and tunics? Will there be contemporaries there? How authentic will we need to be? Professor …?’
‘And Field Medics. Everyone will need burns and crush-injuries training. Maybe at least one doctor should be part of the team. Dr Foster …?’
I left them arguing and made my way over to Mrs Mack.
‘Ten people, say three meals a day for ten days. That’s thirty times ten … Will they have any sort of cooking facilities? Or will they be entirely dependent on supplies shuttled in? And water? They’re going to be hot and thirsty. What’s the weight of a cubic foot of water? ‘
She looked up and saw me. ‘Well, Miss Maxwell, you’ve put the cat amongst the pigeons and no mistake. And to think two days ago we were nearly at meltdown.’
I smiled. ‘I don’t want to interrupt you, but I want to keep this going as long as possible. There’s some good stuff happening. Can you feed and water us in here?’
‘Already taken care of. Soup and sandwiches in ten minutes.’
‘I should have guessed. And what about you and your team, Mrs Mack? Can I tempt you to step outside St Mary’s?’
She grinned at me and I caught a glimpse of the girl who’d stood back to back with her husband the night they threw the Fascists out of Cardiff. She’d be there.
Lunch didn’t even slow us down. Two hours later the Hall looked like a war zone. Discarded printouts littered the floor, along with plastic cups and plates. Practically every surface was covered in scratchpads, disks, sticks, cubes, papers, file covers and assorted debris. Three or four half-finished data stacks rotated slowly in unfinished limbo. Whiteboards were full. The noise had died down considerably. People were now grappling with the details.
I sat on the stairs with Kal and Peterson. Together we’d knocked out a tentative schedule and a pile of enquiries for other crews.
A shout went up. ‘Max! Over here a minute!’ I heaved myself up and trudged over to Dieter’s table. Hundreds of pieces of paper littered the surface. Equations, diagrams, sketches, scribbled lists – they’d really been going at it here.
‘Look’ said Dieter, spreading out a large sheet of paper on top of everything. ‘This is a sketch of how we think it could look from the outside.’ He anchored the corners with a mug of cold coffee, two cubes and someone’s scratchpad. We crowded round.
It was rectangular and flat roofed. ‘We can use the roof as another working area. We have a door at each end of the pod. Here and here. The doors let down to be ramps,’ he said, ‘and here we have …’
The Boss gently touched my shoulder. ‘Start putting it together, Miss Maxwell. You have one month.’
And just like that, we were off to Alexandria.
I paused outside the door, striving for calm. I had worked really hard on this. Actually, we’d all worked really hard on this, but mine was the final voice. And I was the one presenting. My month was up. It was time to deliver.
Sticking my chin in the air, I pushed open the door. Mrs Partridge looked up. ‘Go on in, Miss Maxwell; they’re all waiting for you.’
I clutched my briefing notes even more tightly and walked in. She was right; they were all waiting for me. The Boss sat in his usual position at the head of his briefing table, Chief Farrell at his right hand, Major Guthrie on his left. Next to him sat Helen Foster, then Mrs Mack and Mrs Enderby from Wardrobe. On the other side, Professor Rapson and Doctor Dowson should probably not have been allowed to sit together.
They were all here. I’d argued that all departments should be represented, but at the time, I never thought it would be me taking the briefing.
Mrs Partridge joined Kal, Peterson, Dieter and Jamie Cameron from R & D, all of whom were sitting along one wall. Everyone had their scratchpads open and everyone stared at me with bright anticipation. The Boss nodded for me to start. I very nearly turned and ran.
‘Good afternoon, everyone. This is a three-part briefing: a quick background, an update from all the teams and a provisional schedule.
‘We’ll start with the background briefing.
Ptolemy II of Egypt founded the Library at Alexandria at the beginning of the 3rd century BC. Estimates of the contents vary between 400,000 and 700,000 scrolls although the actual total may have been very much more or very much less. We just don’t know. Don’t look so dismayed; we won’t be in any position to save even a fraction of that number.
‘Because there are some doubts about the content of the main Library by this date, we’re going for the well-documented destruction of the Serapeum – the daughter library.
‘In 391 AD, Theophilus, Patriarch of Alexandria, instigates an anti-paganism campaign in the city. He incites the Christians, urging them to destroy the Serapeum and other pagan sites. The mob, doing what mobs do, is very happy to comply. So, when the Library is burning around us and fighting breaking out everywhere, that’s when we move in.
‘Thanks to the Pathfinders we now know the exact location of the Serapeum. We also know the internal layout. There are a number of areas, each devoted to a single subject – mathematics, astronomy, natural sciences, anatomy, early history, scientific discourse and so on.
‘Detailed layouts are in your folders. You’ll see the landing points marked in yellow with the pod number alongside. It’s a big place, but not that big. We don’t want anyone landing inside a wall, so Chief Farrell will personally lay in all co-ordinates.
‘What we do need to worry about, however, is the wholesale destruction occurring around us. But, if we take reasonable precautions we’ll all be fine.’
Someone snorted.
‘Are there any questions so far?’
Apparently not.
‘Chief Farrell, if you could update us on the progress with our new pod, please.’
He looked up. ‘Everything is on schedule. There are some logistical difficulties with the internal layout, but nothing that can’t be resolved. We won’t have time for the outside shell, but we can fix that later. No one will see it but us. I’d like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that Hawking will be out of bounds to all personnel except Mr Dieter and me for three days, starting the day after tomorrow. Please make it clear to your teams that there will be no access for any reason whatsoever during this period until we give the all clear.’
God knows what they were doing in there. There was no point in asking. I’d tried and he’d just grinned at me. So irritating.
I continued. ‘Dr Foster, you’re responsible for all things medical. How is the training going?’
‘We’ve worked our way through first, second, third and fourth degree burns and the effects of smoke inhalation. We’ve now moved on to the treatment of crush injuries. Everyone going on the assignment has to re-take their Field Medic exam. But, we’re all on schedule.’
I nodded. ‘Dr Dowson?’
‘I’ve located a suitable site where we can hide whatever we do manage to salvage. It’s reasonably near Alexandria and yet should remain completely undisturbed for nearly 2,000 years. You do understand that I can give no guarantees?’
‘We understand, Doctor. And this site is in Egypt, o
bviously. An unbreakable rule for the future, everyone. Whatever we rescue remains in that country. This is an Egyptian treasure. It stays in Egypt.
‘Professor Rapson, I believe you’ve been to Alexandria.’
He had too, cunningly disguised as an absent-minded academic. Not much disguise needed really. We’d just wrapped him in a sheet, wound him up and pointed him at Alexandria.
‘I’ve managed to locate a source of earthenware jars I think will be appropriate, Max. I can nip back and conclude the deal whenever you’re ready.’
‘How are you paying?’ Payment had to be with contemporary material.
‘We have … induced … the Egyptology department at Thirsk to part with one or two small treasures.’
‘Excellent. Mrs Mack.’
‘Yes, Max.’ She sat with her scratchpad, all attention.
‘We need you to keep us fed and watered. Dr Dowson tells me Site B has no water supply of any kind. Because we don’t know how much material we’re going to be able to save, or how long it will take us to pack it all away in the desert heat, we have no idea for how long we need to be provisioned.’
The Chief said, ‘This shouldn’t be a problem. We can run a shuttle-pod service ferrying supplies and people as required.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Please can you two work out the details and let me know.’
I was being really unkind here. She was bouncing with excitement beside me. I put her out of her misery and grinned at her. ‘Mrs Enderby.’
She glowed.
‘We’ll need Wardrobe to provide fireproof clothing, canvas shelters to keep the sun off and something appropriately sterile to wear when we work.
‘This is most important. Any archaeological find is subject to rigorous scrutiny. This goes double for what we’re about to do. People are going to be screaming, ‘fake,’ if even the slightest detail is wrong. And if we screw this up then we’ll never be trusted again. It will finish us. We have to get this exactly right. So, it’s important to minimise contact with the scrolls as much as possible. All heads must be covered. Nothing to do with religion – or sun, come to that – we can’t afford to have people shedding hair all over these scrolls. Especially if that hair is covered in modern hair product. I don’t know what would survive over two millennia but I’m not taking the risk. We don’t need scientists wondering if the ancients really did use anti-dandruff shampoo. So, Mrs Enderby, Wardrobe’s most rigorous checks please. And no sun cream when handling the scrolls. Cotton gloves. We don’t know how the chemicals will react with the papyrus over such a long time.
‘Any questions before we move on to the schedule?’
They shook their heads, shifted their papers, cleared their scratchpads and we moved on.
‘Professor Rapson, you and your team jump to Alexandria, Site A, to acquire the pots, tar-making materials, provisions, etc., taking them on to Doctor Dowson at Site B. You and your team are in Number Three. Mr Dieter will accompany you.
‘Dr Dowson, your team is in TB2 and you jump straight to Site B, the re-burial site, to set things up and wait for the Professor. Chief Farrell will accompany you.
‘The scroll-retrieval team, that’s my gang, are in Number One because it’s small. There are three teams – mine, with Markham and Van Owen; Mr Peterson’s with Schiller and Evans; and Miss Black’s, with Weller and Clarke. One historian, one Pathfinder and one security guard to each team.
‘The medical team are in Number Two and the fire-fighting and security teams are in Numbers Five and Six. We all jump to Site A together and get cracking inside the Library.
‘Once we’ve done the biz in the Serapeum, we take everything we’ve got to Site B. The medical team returns to St Mary’s with any seriously wounded.
‘We start unloading the scrolls and under instructions from Dr Dowson and the Professor, pack them into the pots and seal them up. As I said, near sterile conditions to apply. We then bury them, wall them up, or drop them down a chasm; whatever Dr Dowson has decided is appropriate, to be found by the joint Thirsk/Egypt expedition being organised as we speak. We do the world’s most rigorous FOD plod and return home to wild acclaim.
‘Any questions or comments?
Professor Rapson said thoughtfully. ‘The Dead Sea Scrolls were sealed with tar, but I’m not so sure. Maybe pitch would be better.’
Doctor Dowson snorted. ‘How will you hold it together?’
‘What about droppings of some kind? Plant fibre is a wonderful binding agent. I’ll try with horse dung. Or rabbits. Or maybe human excrement. An organic and a renewable source.’
Yes, good luck with that. If they were relying on me then the jars would be unsealed for ever. After years living off rations, I only go about twice a year, usually at the summer and winter solstice. I like to have a bit of a ceremony …
We discussed things for over an hour and a few things were changed, but, basically, that was the plan.
I had the final mission plan on the Boss’s desk within a month as requested. He nodded and said, ‘This seems satisfactory.’ So he was very happy with it. ‘I assume you have contingency plans?’
‘Well, yes and no, sir. Sod’s Law decrees if a thing can go wrong it will. We’ve done our best but something will happen that we haven’t foreseen and then we’ll just have to wing it.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘The History Department’s motto.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Almost, I envy you.’
I stopped gathering things together. ‘Would you like to come with us?’
He stood quite still and we looked at each other.
‘Why not, sir?’
After a long pause, he said softly, ‘Yes, why not? Although not to the Library. I shan’t be able to contribute anything there, but I might drop in to Site B.’
‘I’ll leave it up to you, sir, but you’ll be very welcome.’
Outside, Mrs Partridge gripped my arm. ‘Is he going to Alexandria?’
I was really surprised. She was hurting me. ‘If he wants to.’
‘He shouldn’t go.’
‘It’s up to him.’
‘You are the mission controller. You should use your veto.’
‘Why?’
But the moment had passed. Her face smoothed. She released my arm and stepped back. ‘Do you have anything for me, Miss Maxwell?’
If I was back to Miss Maxwell again, I must really be in her bad books. I handed her the data cubes, schedules and distribution lists. She nodded, took them back to her desk and began to hammer her keyboard.
I slipped out of the door.
There was a terrible smell on the second floor. I went to see what was happening. I’m not sure why I bothered. I could hear what was happening.
‘Rabbit shit? You’re cooking rabbit shit in here? Are you insane? Dear gods, man, you can’t cook rabbit shit. Are you seriously telling me …?’
‘Dr Dowson,’ I said soothingly. ‘What’s the problem?’
He pointed a trembling finger. ‘This madman … this idiot is cooking rabbit shit. Can you believe such stupidity? Rabbit shit, for God’s sake …’ He gasped for breath.
‘Calm down, Octavius,’ said a completely unrepentant Professor Rapson, emerging from the murk and removing the handkerchief tied across the lower part of his face. ‘You’re going to have a seizure at this rate. Jamie, can you open the windows, please?’
The awful fug began to dissipate a little. The fire alarms hadn’t gone off. I climbed on a table and pulled off the cover. No battery.
‘Professor …’
‘I had no choice, Max; the stupid things keep going off. It’s very annoying.’
‘Rabbit shit,’ raged Doctor Dowson, displaying a focus not often seen at St Mary’s. ‘Of all the idiotic, moronic …’
‘For God’s sake, Occy, show a bit of gratitude. We’re working on a recipe for pitch here and I need some sort of fibrous binding agent. I have to say, before you self-combust, this batch seems to be working very well. Show a little gratitude, please.’
> Dr Dowson swelled and his colour deepened. ‘Gratitude? For what? I knew I’d end up doing R & D’s job for them. Tell me this, Andrew, exactly how much rabbit shit do you think is going to be available in a city? In Egypt? In the heat? In the desert? I’ll tell you now, you’re wasting your time. Cow, camel or donkey dung is the way to go. Plentiful supplies and bigger dollops. Have you seriously thought how many little rabbit pellets you would need to equal the average cow pat?’
‘Well, it should be easy to calculate,’ said Professor Rapson, more easily diverted, thank goodness. ‘Say between seventy to one hundred pellets to one pat – although we could do it by weight, of course … Jamie, my boy, can you get me some cowpats, please. We’ll need to poke them about a bit to check for plant material, so can you ask Mrs Mack for some forks as well. Now, Occy, we need to consider our source of resin …’
The two of them plunged back into the murk.
Major Guthrie’s final briefing laid it on the line.
‘Listen up, everyone. I shall say this only once. As soon as we land, even before we step outside, you will – all of you – answer to me. Everyone from historians upwards should be aware of this. If you can’t accept this then you don’t go. It’s that simple. So, no one leaves their pods until I give the word. And when I say, ‘Pull out,’ you pull out. You don’t stop to grab just a few more scrolls or investigate what’s round the corner; you go. You drop whatever you are doing and return to your pods. Is that clear?
We murmured a response.
‘Right, I’ve already briefed my team on this and now I’m telling you. We are not there to fight the fire. We’ll try and contain it while you work but our main job is to protect you while you seize what you can. We’ll give you every opportunity to get the job done, but your safety is our priority. And don’t weigh my people down with piles of scrolls because that’s not what they’re there for.
‘A couple of us will be in full fire-fighter’s gear. Everyone else will be wearing protective fire suits. And there’s no point in the History Department shaking its head and muttering. I don’t give a rat’s arse about historical inaccuracy. Live with it.
‘Those of us not on fire-fighting duties are on crowd control – guarding against hostile contemporaries. Again, don’t rope them into scroll-rescuing activities. Their purpose is to protect you long enough for an ordered retreat back to the pods.