People gasped. Even over the deafening thud of their feet hitting the ground, we could hear their ghastly gurgling digestive noises. They were so much larger than anyone had thought. Previous estimates of size must have been based on immature bones. They were magnificent. They plodded endlessly on. Finally, the last of the herd passed through the hangar, to eventual dinosaur oblivion, leaving total silence behind. The hangar drew a collective breath, but we had one last spectacular shot to come.
As the sun set, orange and smoky blood-red behind the distant volcanoes, a solitary flying shadow came out of the clouds and the only Pteranodon we ever saw dipped low across the water. Slowly and serenely, he spread his wings and glided over the water, racing his shadow. A long snake neck whipped out of the water, seized his wing, and dragged him under without a sound and barely a ripple. The sun sank. The day was over.
Chapter Ten
I spent the next two days incessantly going over the data. I wrote a commentary for the holo. I checked all the data cubes, disks, sticks, and stacks were loaded and correct. I collated all the documentation and labelled everything. I couldn’t leave it alone. Peterson took me for a drink but I couldn’t settle, so I guess they thought it would be easier just to let me be.
The Chief and I set off early – the Boss had loaned us his Bentley; a rare favour. The boot and back seat were stacked with archive boxes filled with the fruits of our labours. With Sussman gone, the Chief was coming along to handle the technical side of things.
‘You’ll be all right once we get started,’ he said, accurately reading my mind.
I sat and stared out of the window and fretted. Had I mentioned iliac crests? Did I mention the Proceratops eggs laid in spiral patterns? And the flap of skin covering Saurolophus nostrils? Yes, yes, and yes. Calm down and focus, Maxwell.
We were met by the welcoming committee, the Chancellor and her gang, all of whom seemed very pleasant. I don’t know why the Boss always carried on as if they were the Antichrist. Although I suspected if this presentation failed and they weren’t happy with our data then I would soon be finding out. The Chief disappeared off in the direction of their main lecture hall and I went alone into the lion’s den to meet the Senior Faculty.
In the privacy of the Chancellor’s office I introduced myself, listed my qualifications and experience, and detailed the mission parameters. I always start that way. It gives my brain a chance to catch up with my mouth.
I followed the same format for all the categories. I outlined the requirements, described the methodology, and congratulated them on the reliability of their equipment. I brought up a few stills from the star map, just enough to whet their appetite, then moved tantalisingly on to geology and climate. Again, just as they became interested I switched to flora and fauna. I showed them how to access the raw data. Nothing had been worked up and no conclusions drawn. Not our job.
I gestured to the piles of disks, cubes, and tapes on the table beside me and formally handed them over to the appropriate heads of departments who had been slathering impatiently for the last twenty minutes. Out of compassion for them I’d kept it as brief as I could and I appreciated they wanted to get at it, but I wanted to be sure St Mary’s got the credit it deserved.
I asked ‘Any questions?’
Someone stood up (primed by the Chancellor, I suspected) and said, ‘Yes, but what was it actually like?’
There would never be a better opportunity. Before I could respond, the Chancellor rose to her feet and said, ‘This way please, everyone.’ Muttering and looking longingly back over their shoulders to the piles of data on her table, they complied.
The lecture hall was massive. On the downside, of course, given the seating capacity, I could be embarrassing myself in front of millions. The Chief had already erected and aligned the streamers, three down one side and three down the other. Every chair was taken. Standing room at the back was packed. They contravened fire regs. and sat on the floor in the aisles. If this place caught fire, not only were they all doomed, but two of St Mary’s finest were going up in flames as well. Better than going down in flames, I suppose. I swallowed and wondered again whether I’d suit an office job.
The Chancellor introduced us, to a polite smattering of applause. We had a minute’s silence for Sussman. She sat down. Here we go.
The lights went out, the blinds automatically covered the windows, and the streamers came on line.
I said, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, utilising the very latest technology developed at St Mary’s, I present to you: A Typical Day in the Cretaceous Period.’
The opening scenes came up and to gratifying gasps of amazement the Alamosaurus head snaked down and looked the Chancellor directly in the eye. All credit to her, she took it well.