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Re-post as improbable to be salvaged from prior forum...
Chapter #01
The tall, ivy-clad gates were clasped by a heavy chain and a massive padlock. I worked the key against decades of corrosion, admitted defeat.
"Rusted solid, Uncle Jim."
"Bolt-croppers in the back, Dave," he replied. "Plus another lock and chain."
I walked to the rear of the SUV, opened the tail-gate. Sure enough, there was the tool I needed. Its three feet of handle made short work of the old chain. My second snip broke an end link, sent the big lock rattling to the floor. I tossed it aside then put my shoulder to the left leaf. Inch by inch, I drove it open, uprooting two bushes and several saplings, scalping undergrowth. After a few moments to regain my breath, I tackled the other leaf.
"Well done, lad !"
I stood away, caught my breath. After years of neglect, the revealed drive was little more than a waist-deep trench between interlocked trees. I glanced back to the SUV. Uncle Jim didn't seem concerned. As I settled onto the passenger seat, he selected a crawler gear and turned into the entrance.
"Roo bars earn their keep today." I observed.
"Uh-huh." He nodded. Bushes and saplings went down before the SUV's large fenders. The wide tyres etched two tracks in the long grass. We went several hundred yards between dark trees, emerged onto a grassy circle with an overgrown fountain at its centre. Beyond that, a wide mound with stub walls rose from the undergrowth.
"Walgate Hall, lad. Take a look."
I walked closer. Under the grass, I could see a flight of broad steps rising to an arched doorway. Other than a chimney stack masked by two trees, that was the tallest part of the ruin. The East wing seemed more overgrown, with decades of growth. The West's walls and debris still had raw edges, suggesting recent collapse. I circled the wreck, returned to the SUV.
"It's a mess, Uncle Jim."
"Lots of potential."
I examined that comment from several angles, had to ask, "You've bought it ?"
"For a song, lad."
"Looks like some fell recently."
"Storm of '87 toppled the East wing. Last winter's gales did for the rest."
"Roll it flat, pour a slab ?"
"Not exactly..." Uncle Jim looked like he'd bitten a pickle. "It's 'Listed'."
"Ah." That perhaps explained my prescence. "You need to recover all the architectural twiddles."
"Sills, quoins and lintels." He nodded. "The period brick's valuable, too."
"Won't be easy getting all that out of the cellars..."
"Now, there, you're wrong." He smiled, waved at the ruin. "This was early nineteenth century, but it stood on seventeenth century vaults."
"That makes a big difference." I turned and reviewed the mound. "Yes, that would make things a lot easier."
"I want you to run the dig."
"What ?"
"You've a Masters in Archaeology and no prospects. I need a good job doing."
"But--"
"Document this place, strip it bare."
"Ah..." I took a careful breath. "Won't be cheap."
"Fifteen thousand."
"Hmm..." I thought quickly. "I'd bring in a dozen grad students, machinery, catering..." I shook my head. "Fifteen's not enough."
"Twenty thousand."
"Call it twenty-five, plus the deposit on the hires makes thirty."
Uncle Jim hissed slightly, then nodded. "Deal. When can you start ?"
"About a month."
"That's fair..."
"Uh, is your old Land-Rover 4x4 still roadworthy ?"
"Yes. Why ?"
"Add me to the insurance." I waved. "I'll need wheels, plus it has a winch and tow-hook."
Uncle Jim showed up a week into the dig. I left my half-loaded pallet of recycled bricks, walked over to the SUV.
"I didn't expect you to clear the lane !"
"Only took a couple of hours." I assured him. "Would have turned to mud if we hadn't."
"How's the work going ?"
"Well." I grinned. "Come on, I'll show you around."
He climbed out, looked about.
"First thing we had to do was improve access. Couple of industrial -strength strimmers did for the lane's shrubs and long grass. Excavator scraped up most of the mulch and dumped it off the track. We used the strimmers again to clear space for our base-camp." I pointed to the neat row of seven four-place tents. "They were on offer, and there's never enough room in bivvy tents. Three 'Portaloo' cubicles-- His', Her's and 'Urgent'." I waved to a tall student splicing a power cable beside a pre-fab shed. "Geoff looks after our main and back-up generators."
Uncle Jim's gaze swept the site. "Is that a mobile café ?"
"Yes. Food's courtesy of a couple of catering students. Their kitchen trailer serves bacon rolls, burgers, hot-dogs and soup during the day. They brew a big pan every evening-- Chilli, stew, spaghetti meatballs or risotto. This first marquee is for meeting and dining. Tables, chairs, power points and a wi-fi base station. The camper van is mine, doubles as the site office and network storage."
I led Uncle Jim closer to the mound. Two modular scaffolding towers overlooked the excavation. Tripod mounted cameras logged the dig. Six students surrounded a conveyor belt which reached to the heart of the West wing. Two wielded electric chisels, the others cleft any remaining mortar with hammer blows. Removed bricks were whisked away to fall into the wheeled excavator's bucket. A third team worked on the standing wall, enlarging the conveyor's gap.
"Where did you get that, lad ? Beats barrowing !"
"It's used by roofers." I smiled. "When the bucket's full, we dump the bricks by the second marquee." I led him there. "If the weather's foul, we work in here." I pointed to the part-pallet of cleaned bricks behind the pile, then two full pallets on the grass verge beyond. "Excavator has a fold-down fork."
"Have you recovered any architectural details ?"
"Over here." Beside a four-wheeled trailer stacked high with empty pallets, four carried cornices and windows' sills, quoins and lintels. "Labelled, drawn, photographed and logged."
"Very efficient." He nodded, hesitated, then pointed behind the first marquee. "Why do you need a horse-box ?"
"That's our beer cellar."
Uncle Jim guffawed and clapped me across my shoulders. "I knew I could rely on you !"
It was ten days before Uncle Jim returned. I left my wrecking bar on the edge of the building's plinth, walked over to his SUV.
"You've taken down the West Wing's walls," he noted.
"Yes, we've cleared all the brickwork from the West side and we're making good progress on the East wing." I pointed to the conveyor's stream of bricks falling into the excavator's bucket. "The extra weathering means its mortar just falls apart."
"You'll be finished soon, then ?"
"No way..." I shook my head. "There's an ungodly tangle of ceilings and floors to un-pick, plus three flights of stairs."
Uncle Jim looked surprised.
"We've layers of lath and plaster mixed up with big timbers. We're having to prise huge planks off their massive beams with wrecking bars, tow them clear with the Land-Rover." I shrugged. "We'll make up time on the East wing because the wood there is so rotten."
"Good."
"One thing I'm not looking forward to is clearing all the lath, plaster and mortar waste off the plinth." I pointed to the excavator. "We could do it in an hour with that, if we could trust the vaults to hold its weight."
"Ah..." Uncle Jim shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think so..."
"So we'll do it the old fashioned way with shovel and wheel-barrow."
"Then you'll take down the chimney stack ?"
"That's the plan. We'll also have access to the cellar stairs." I shrugged. "We haven't exposed them yet."
"Sounds like you have everything under control."
"I hope so..." I took a careful breath. "While you're here, you might like to hear what Jenny, our archivist, has found. Definite whiff of scandal."
"Lead on !"
The first marquee's tables were strewn with photo-copies. Blonde Jenny looked up from the sheet she was studying, called, "Hi, Dave !"
"Hi ! Jen spent a day ransacking County Hall's records," I said. "Besides the usual stuff, she came across something surprising."
"The Walgate Wyrm." Jenny nodded. "Starts with Adrian Salter. He made his money in textiles, then married heiress Miriam Spencer Jones. They bought the Walgate estate, demolished the ramshackle seventeenth century house and built this place. Unfortunately, Miriam died in childbirth, so there was just the one son, Archibald.
He seems to have been a bright lad. Home-schooled, then Eton, then Oxford to study Classics. Doing well until Adrian died suddenly and Junior inherited the lot. He left Oxford, joined the fast set in London. Became friends with Edward Bulwer-Lytton, whose writings inspired Aleister Crowley--"
"Now there's a name to conjour with..." Uncle Jim grumbled.
"Gets better." Jenny grinned. "Following an esoteric soireé at Walgate Hall, a menagerie animal savaged its handler and escaped into the grounds. Archibald and company pursued with pistols and sabres, but it got away. Over the next week, it killed and ate several sheep, and frightened many locals."
"What sort of animal ?" Uncle Jim frowned.
"That's a funny thing..." Jenny shook her head. "The reports said long and sinuous, but thick-bodied rather than snake-like, with a sucking mouth rather than fangs."
"Hmm... Go on."
"Archibald offered a twenty guinea reward for its capture, dead or alive. Several teams tried and failed, one group reporting that the Wyrm was impervious to musket fire. Finally, the local blacksmith used a portable brazier and red-hot pokers to herd the Wyrm back to its pit in the menagerie."
"Ingenious !"
"Archibald thought so. He paid in full, and also gave a guinea to each of the blacksmith's apprentices."
"Job done !"
"You'd think so." Jenny nodded. "But it gets stranger; within six months, Archibald had disavowed occultism, sold Walgate Hall and moved to America."
"That is unexpected... What became of him ?"
"Died defending his plantation from raiders during the War Between The States."
"Well, that certainly is an interesting tale." Uncle Jim nodded. "Thank you. Good work."
We'd walked back to his SUV before he spoke again. "I hope those timbers don't hold you up too much."
"We're getting better with practice," I assured him. "There's a knack to prising loose their spikes."
I grounded my wheel-barrow and trotted down the steps to the driveway as Uncle Jim's SUV halted by the dry fountain.
"I got your message, lad ! You've opened the cellars ?"
"We were lucky." I nodded. "When we cleared the area behind the stack, we found a partition had fallen across the stair-well, protecting it."
"Lead on !"
Six students were slowly shovelling debris into wheel-barrows. A scaffolding tower stood beside the chimney stack. A group of hard-hatted students waited by the opening just beyond.
"What's that roaring ?"
"Air-mover. Cellars were low Oxygen, high Carbon DiOxide. We've had the fan running for three hours which should have stirred things up." I called ahead to Geoff who was holding a boxy instrument, "How's it looking ?"
"We're good; I've turned the fan twice but the last hour hasn't had any dips. "
"Thanks ! Okay, folks, final safety briefing ! First, wear your hard-hats; we don't know how the vaults are doing. Second, you all have your torches, just in case ? Third, there may be gas pockets; if you feel woozy or Geoff's box squawks, the shout is 'Gas ! Gas ! Gas !' and everyone retreats to the entrance." I waited for their nods, asked, "Mapping team ready, Andy ?"
The stocky red-head nodded. "Alice on camera. Helen has the log. Pete has the pole and tape-measure. I'm humping the laser level."
I donned a hard-hat off a pile, handed another to Uncle Jim, said, "Okay, Geoff, lead with the first lamp. I'll bring the second."
Geoff plugged his work-lamp into the waiting waterproof socket and, carefully trailing cable, led the way down the stairs. He stepped around the air-mover, set the tripod six feet clear of the bottom step, toed the cable to the side of the corridor then switched on the lamp. The broad beam went a dozen yards, throwing the old stonework into high relief. I plugged my lamp into the other's daisy-chain socket, set the tripod behind the stairs and illuminated a dozen yards that way. Geoff motioned aside. I nodded, tidied the cable's lay.
"Okay ! Come on down !"
Uncle Jim picked his way down the stairs, looked around. He peered into the nearest bays, felt the stonework, tapped his foot on the floor tiles. He nodded slowly, said, "Better condition than I expected. Much better. These will make a marvellous wine cellar. Good work, lad, and thank you. Let me know when you want trucks to haul off those pallets. Just don't dilly-dally over the report."
He turned, climbed the stairs and was gone without further comment. Geoff raised an eloquent eyebrow. I shrugged, said, "I can't do anything down here; I'd better get back to my wheel-barrow."
I'd taken a dozen loads to the excavator's waiting bucket when Andy emerged from the cellars and waved me across.
"Dave, we have an anomaly !"
"Building phases ?"
"No, five bays are the same to an inch. The far-West bay is short by eight inches ! The end's brickwork is slightly different !"
"Hmm."
"Do we investigate ?"
"Are we Archaeologists ? Ask Geoff to run a power cable while I get some tools !"
"Okay !"
I grabbed my hard-hat and an electric chisel, met Geoff as he was unreeling a long extension cable.
Andy brought our third lamp, saying, "Could be anything, perhaps a former service entrance."
"Our job to find out." I followed them to the end bay. At first glance, the brickwork was identical. Closer inspection showed it was not bonded to the side walls. "Good spot, Andy."
"Alice noticed it," he corrected. "Took us a while to agree."
"Okay." I pulled down my ear-defenders, set the chisel against a central mortar joint. The tool bit into the old material, soon opening a deep groove around the brick. I kept on until the brick's adhesion failed and it prised out.
"Is that mortar behind ?" Alice shone her torch into the gap.
"Yes... This should reach." I shoved the power chisel into the gap, attacked the mortar. Suddenly, the tool's sharp note changed to a dull chattering. I pulled away.
Alice shone her torch again, shouted, "Behind the mortar-- Look at the splinters ! That's wood ! It must be an old door !"
"Get a photo," I directed, lowering the power chisel to the floor.
"Aren't you going to carry on ?"
"Your find, your dig." I grinned. "I'm needed up top. Just don't open it until Geoff's ready with his sniffer box."
"Gotcha." Andy nodded.
"Ear defenders !" Alice hissed. "Where did I leave my ear defenders..."
I'd wheeled away a dozen more loads of debris before Andy called me with, "It's a doorway !"
"Okay !" I turned to the digging crew. "Come on, you should be in on this !"
They followed me down the stairs, then left to the West-end bay where the removed bricks had been carefully piled to one side. Alice was taking meticulous photographs of the revealed door. It had a tarnished brass handle but no lock. Instead, two stout bars were slotted into rusted iron brackets on the frame.
Andy said, "There's nothing obvious outside."
"Okay." I nodded, then turned to Alice and said, "You open, I'll document."
"Yeah !" She handed over her camera and took a firm grip on the upper bar. It didn't budge.
"Hammer ?" Andy offered one.
"That should do !" Alice dislodged the bar with a succession of firm strokes then lifted it clear. I took a photo, waited for her to shift the second. With that gone, she grabbed the handle and heaved. The door creaked open a hand's breadth.
Geoff put his sniffer box's inlet to the opening, hesitated, then tried lower down. At last, he stood, shook his head and said, "Air's good. There must be a vent."
"Thanks, Geoff." I took a photo of the ajar door, said, "Open up, Alice."
She hauled the door wide. As I took a photo, five torch beams probed the gap.
"Stairs ! Stone stairs !" Alice reported.
"Can you see the bottom ?"
"Let's have a torch..." She pointed it down. "Yes, there's a dozen steps then a tiled floor."
I took a photo down the stairs then said, "After you."
"Brilliant !" Shining her torch ahead, she picked her way down the old steps. Standing at their foot, she called back, "There's a big room here !"
I was seconds behind, delayed by borrowing a torch. I played it around, reported, "It's about twenty feet across, octagonal, rib vaulted. There's a central drain and a narrow passage opposite." I aimed my torch into the curved way then took a logging photo. "My guess is this was an ice-house."
"It was re-purposed." Alice shone her torch down. "Look here."
Linear cuprous stains criss-crossed the tiles. I toed one streak, revealed an inset strip of tarnished brass or bronze.
" 'Ritual Activity !" Alice crowed, waving around the strips' extent. "It's a ginormous pentagram ! A dozen feet across !"
"Wow !" I stepped back to the stairs to get a good camera angle. Alice moved aside after dropping an L-measure on the pattern. I took a succession of photos in wide-angle and close-up, hesitated. Something subliminal had changed. Something had moved. I took another photo towards the curved passage, gasped.
Alice glimpsed it, too, yelled, "What's that ?"
"Go ! GO !"
"Too right !" She skidded past me, clattered up the stairs.
I backed towards the stairs, taking photos as fast as the flash would cycle. Then I turned and fled. As I cleared the top, Alice slammed the door shut and fumbled the first bar to place.
"What the hell ?" Andy managed. I turned the camera, replayed the last few images. He sucked a breath, managed, "You're kidding ?"
"Yeah." Geoff nodded "It would have to be, what, a hundred and fifty years old ?"
"Don't ask me how..." I shook my head. "But it's down there and mobile--"
Something massive thudded against the door. Alice swore, hastily fitted the second bar, hammering it home.
"That's no badger !" Helen gasped, clutching her clipboard.
"Colour me convinced..." Andy shuddered. "Uh, I don't think that old door will hold..."
"Me, neither..." Geoff hesitated, then added, "Time to go ?"
"You heard Geoff !" I called to the crowd behind him. "Orderly evacuation ! Move !"
Geoff took the time to gather the electric chisel and its extension cable, to flick the cable clear of the top of the stairs. The last one out, he took a head-count to be sure, to be sure. "All clear."
"Thanks !" I'd had a few moments to think. I handed the camera back to Alice, turned to the digging party, said, "We need to contain it-- Grab your shovels; we'll be needing them." They returned armed.
Andy called, "Dave, what about the strimmers ?"
"Good idea." Geoff nodded. "Bring one while somebody tops-up the other's fuel. Who's used them ?"
"Me, Dave and Pete." Andy waved.
"Go get them." I nodded.
Alice looked up from reviewing her camera's photos, said, "It must be starving !"
"Would it eat meat ?" Helen wondered.
"Grab some raw burgers from the café," I suggested. "We can drop them on the stairs."
"Listen..." Geoff was half stooped by the stairs. "That door's taking a hammering."
"At least we've photos from 'before'..." Alice sighed.
"Splintering..." Geoff reported. "And gone."
The shovellers clutched their weapons, stood ready. From his crouch, Geoff had a sight-line down the corridor. He took a shaky breath, called, "Here it comes !"
"Get ready !" I grabbed up our fibre-glass measuring pole, took my position. "Set !"
A dozen feet of limbless, seal-smooth blackness rippled up the stairs.
"Now !"
One shoveller froze, but five slammed their spades against the Wyrm's back and snout. It reversed with shocking speed, slithering back to the foot of the stairs.
"Good strike !" I called.
"Uh, here it comes again !" Alice warned.
This time, six spades struck. I jabbed at the arc of beady eyes across its brow. Beset, the Wyrm retreated.
Helen returned, panting and waving a full baggy. "Wyrm food to go !"
"Drop them in from the side," I said. "Just be careful..."
"Okay !" Careful not to slip, Helen scattered five raw burgers across the lower steps. The Wyrm's snout twitched. Five nubs around its maw suddenly stretched to cubit length tentacles, each tipped with a chitinous claw. Impaled, the nearest burger was drawn into the maw.
"I've got it ! I've got it !" Alice yelled, checking her camera.
One by one, the Wyrm sensed, then grabbed the other burgers. It paused for a moment, seemed to gather itself.
"Get ready !" I warned.
This time, the Wyrm almost reached the top of the stairs before our slapping and jabbing spades forced its retreat.
"Next time it will get out..." Geoff brandished a length of timber he'd found, then turned, called, "Hey ! What kept you ?"
Andy and Pete had arrived with the strimmers. Andy shook his head, said, "Both were almost out of fuel--"
"Here it comes again !" Alice warned.
Andy tugged on his strimmer's starter. He swung the cutting face towards the stairs. As we feared, the Wyrm met, passed our spades' gauntlet. It slashed its tentacles at the last barrier. Green ichor spurted. Cleft by the spinning cord, a handspan of tentacle flew aside. The Wyrm hurled itself back down the stairs, keening.
"Nick of time..." Geoff allowed, gratefully.
"Thanks," I added, then, "Still leaves us with a problem..."
"Dear God, yes..." Andy shook his head. "What do we do now ?"
We took turns peering down the stairs. The stricken Wyrm lay quiescent, but for how long ?
"I've an idea." Geoff said suddenly. "Dave, I'll need your measuring pole and a quarter hour."
"Whatever," I allowed, handing it over. "Do you need any help ?"
"Duct tape, I've got. Couple of metal tent pegs."
"There's a bag of spares, or pull the two nearest." I waved to our camp site. "Go for it."
"Thanks..." He sprinted towards the generator shed.
"Uh-huh." I had an inkling of his plan. I spoke up, "Guys, we've got to buy Geoff the time he needs."
"We can try..." Andy revved his strimmer.
"Wyrm's moving again !" Alice warned.
This time, though, the Wyrm stopped short of the spades, out of reach of the strimmer.
"Ah, you don't like this, do you ?" Andy swung the cutting face. The Wyrm backed away, undulating down the steps.
"Stand off..." Helen shivered.
Twice more, the Wyrm advanced slowly then retreated from the strimmer's threat. Each time, though, it stopped a little higher, a little closer.
"Is it going to try a rush ?" Helen wondered.
"That could work..." I admitted. "We're almost out of options."
"On it." Pete started his strimmer. The two cutting faces waved over the stairs bought us some more time.
"Here comes Geoff !" Helen pointed. "What's that he's got ?"
The measuring pole now had two metal tent pegs taped to one end. Cable ran up the pole to a coil and plug in his other hand. Geoff pointed to the socket that fed the cellar's electrics. "This goes in there."
"Gotcha !" I swapped the connections with shaking hands.
"Here it comes !" Alice warned, edging away.
This time, the Wyrm didn't extend its tentacles. It barged past the spades, shoved aside the strimmers that lashed its flanks.
Geoff stepped forwards, thrust. His skinny bident met the Wyrm's broad brow. A current flowed between the prongs. The Wyrm spasmed, lashing its body in agony. Geoff dodged its flailing, jabbed again and again. The Wyrm thrashed helplessly. Geoff leaned into his victim. Flesh bubbled and boiled. Geoff kept on, choosing his aim.
At last, steaming from a dozen deep burns, the Wyrm slowed, stilled.
It was a while before anyone spoke, but Andy said it all, "I think we won."
"Hi !" I called as he halted his SUV by the dry fountain. "Come and join our meeting !"
"The chimney stack's gone," he observed, noting the stripped plinth.
"Also the last of the debris from both wings." I assured him. "Your trucker took the palletised bricks and masonry away."
He nodded, followed me to the marquee, took a seat at the top of the tables. Given our discoveries and the pay-cheques I'd just handed out, the mood should have been jubilant. Instead, for we were intelligent folk, our gathering was subdued.
"We're into the end-game here," I said. "Andy, could you start ?"
"Sure ! Well, the first thing we did after killing the Wyrm was to check it was alone." He shivered. "Took a bit of nerve to explore that passage, but Geoff, Malcolm and I armed ourselves with wrecking bars and the zap stick, headed in. We found the Wyrm's midden began a dozen feet around the passage's bend. About twenty feet beyond that, we came to an old grille gate."
"It was heavily rusted," Geoff added. "Another couple of Winters would have done for several of the bars."
"They passed word back, with approximate distances, so Dave and I took the strimmers and went hunting," Pete said.
"We got lucky," I admitted. "We were only a few paces in from the lane when Pete exposed a line of kerb stones."
"The old path ran straight to the dell where the ice-house adit came out." Pete shrugged. "Funny thing; the ground by the gate was cropped short."
"We reckon the Wyrm used to lie in wait for small animals," I said. "Then lash out between the bars."
"Lean pickings," Pete agreed.
"With the passage secured, it was time to call you," I reminded Uncle Jim.
"If it had been anyone else, Lad..." He shook his head.
"Well, I needed authority to spend a chunk of contingency money."
"I hope it was worthwhile..."
"Uh-huh... We used a scaffolding section and a tarpaulin as a stretcher to get the Wyrm off the plinth, then the excavator's forks to move it to the horse-box." I shuddered. "Every time it shifted, we jumped."
"Dave left me in charge of the site," Geoff said. "The plinth still needed clearing and we'd barely begun to take down the stack. We also needed a carpenter and a metal fabricator. I've done some welding, so I knew what to ask."
"Dave hitched the horse-box to the Land-Rover 4x4 and we headed for Bristol," Andy said. "My cousin Penny's there, studying Veterinary Pathology. She took one look at the Wyrm and got us in to see her head of department, Prof. Day."
"He was sceptical, barely polite." I sighed. "I think he suspected a hoax. He certainly wasn't prepared to do pro-bono work."
"So Dave hauled out his Walgate Hall Project cheque-book and wrote one for a thousand."
"That got the Prof's attention," I agreed. "We took him out to the horse-box. He... He was speechless. Then he managed to point us towards the large animal reception area."
"The shed had a hoist, and they were used to shifting carcasses," Andy chuckled. "Twelve feet of Wyrm still gave them a few bad moments."
"I had a word with the Prof. about intellectual property and publication. We agreed to do two Papers back to back; ours with discovery and general arrangement, his with anatomical detail. That done, Andy and I headed back." I shrugged. "Next few days were just hard work. With the chimney stack gone, we called your trucker. Carpenter re-used an old floorboard, so the door's almost 'Period'. We're waiting on the stair-well hatch and new adit gate. Shame about the ice-house floor, Uncle Jim..."
"Evidence of Ritual Activity would impinge on the property value."
"Just so." I nodded. "After they cleaned up the pentagram and recorded it, the survey team ripped it out and flipped the flagstones."
"Good riddance..."
"We got the preliminary results from the Wyrm after three days. They opened such a can of worms that I had to pay another thousand for DNA sequencing." I shrugged. "Sorry."
"I hope you're right, Lad..."
"Had to be sure." I nodded, picked up a print-out, translated the summary. "The Wyrm was invertebrate, with keratinous claws and teeth. There's no 'central nervous system', just an extensive neural net. The specimen was female and pregnant. It was due to bear a dozen live, hand-sized young. In the absence of a male, the Wyrm must be parthenogenic, like greenfly. Genetically, the Wyrm is polyploid. There's minimal kinship with any extant phylum."
"That means it is-- was unique ?" I'd caught Uncle Jim's interest.
"Very," I agreed. "Hence the DNA testing."
"You wouldn't have called me here unless..."
"Got the results at lunch-time." I nodded. "Last Common Ancestor was a flat-worm. But the Wyrm has had half a billion years of genetic drift, not to mention growing eyes and doubling up its genes. There's nothing like a Wyrm. It literally is one of a kind..."
"Too bad you had to kill it..." Uncle Jim grumbled.
"Well, we had a thought..." I admitted. "It would be too much of a coincidence if this was the first time it was pregnant--"
"Uh ?"
"So I got a dozen cage-traps from the RSPCA and set them out in the woods." I motioned to Helen, who uncovered a large box. "Guess what we caught ?"
Uncle Jim peered in at the five black, hand-sized shapes and gasped, "They're young Wyrms ?"
"Small enough to get out through the gate." I shrugged. "I guess they must stay hand-sized for a long time, feeding on mice and shrews."
"They're cannibals," admitted Helen. "This morning, there were six, but they tore the smallest apart and ate it before I could feed them."
"We've wondered if Momma Wyrm caught and ate her young if they wandered too close."
"They must be valuable..." Uncle Jim had a calculating gleam in his eye.
"Very," I assured him. "Like Momma Wyrm, these were discovered on your property, so they're yours. As for Intellectual Property, well, you've paid for the research, so the results are yours, too."
"Ah !"
"We get the kudos for discovering 'Cryptovermis Walgatis', 'The Secret Wyrm of Walgate', but you own the rights."
"Ah, well..." Uncle Jim sat back with a very smug expression.
"There's just one problem..."
"Oh ?"
"The Wyrm is too unique. There is literally nothing like it, dead, alive, or in the fossil record. If its DNA wasn't unambiguously terrestrial, I'd wonder if it had wandered off a flying saucer." I shrugged. "I know the Victorians collected some weird stuff, but Archibald Salter wasn't an explorer. All he did was wall up the ice-house door and flee to America."
"Where are you going with this ?"
"The first mention of the Wyrm is following an 'esoteric soireé'; Given the whatsit in the ice-house, we can guess what they were doing." I took a careful breath. "It goes against everything we believe, but what if their ritual brought the Wyrm ? What if their Magick worked ??"
Helen and I have bagged places on a high-profile dig in Costa Rica next year !!
Yeah !!
Serious stuff; Please find attached our final draft of the Ice House Dig report. It's going to the Journal of Anthropology as soon as I can kick my spiel chequer into life.
Something odd you missed with all your dashing around at the end of the main dig...
When we lifted that pentagram, we found the brass strips bridged each other rather than met to form the inner pentagon. It was like a huge version of those 'plaited' symbols you see 'New Agers' wearing. There was a little extra dip in each stone channel, and a thin strip of mica insulator in between. Thanks to Alex, my geologist friend, for that identification !
Got weirder; Four apexes were solidly joined, possibly brazed, but, at the apex nearest the adit, the bottom strip was connected to a copper rod which went down about four feet. There was another slip of mica, then the upper brass strip attached to a thick copper wire which disappeared under the adit's floor tiles.
We lifted a tile near the gate, found the wire continued. We could not see it in the dell, but Geoff borrowed a metal detector and soon got a strong hit beyond the path. Our series of test sondes found that wire running along the side of the woods about six inches down. It went under later landscaping, surfaced in the bank of a winterburn about a hundred and fifty yards from the house. There, it attached to another copper rod...
Nearest thing I've seen to it is a GeoPhys resistivity survey...
Stay Cool,
Andy.
---
Hi, Dave !
After I read Andy's 'mail, I did a bit of digging for ground rods. Yes, those were close to the standard tech used for telegraph stations of that era.
Could I narrow the date of that 'esoteric soireé'; Was it 1/2 September 1859 ?
My best guess is 'Probably'.
And, yes, that was the night of the Carrington Event, with the mega solar storm and wild aurorae and magnetic chaos, electrified telegraph lines and all.
"Featherham Industrial Estate..." Andy compared the entrance sign to his sweat-stained printout, counted frontages. "Unit 4 should be down on the left..."
"Beats me what Dave's doing out here." Geoff looked along the 'To Let' signs and the fading paint.
"He stopped answering his 'mail about three weeks ago," Jenny worried. "And then that cryptic one-liner, 'Come soonest', plus a Google Earth link."
"Not like him," Helen agreed, to a nod from Alice.
Pete, who'd walked ahead, stopped to read a hand-lettered notice in a fly-blown window. He turned, waved, called, "This is it ! 'Walgate Project Outstation' !"
"Dave ?" Geoff banged on the door after trying its handle. "Dave ?"
I slid the bolts, released the lock. My friends crowded in.
"What a mess !" Helen looked over the tower of scaffolding, plumbing and cables that nearly reached the unit's high ceiling. "And you ! Dave Andrews, when's the last time you shaved or slept ?"
"Uh, Sunday ?"
Geoff shook his head, paused for a moment to study my work, then asked, "Do I see a pentagram ?"
"Three of them." I nodded wearily.
"Three ?" Andy turned. "Ah ! You've used copper piping-- Yes, a big one at the bottom, then two small ones further up... But, why ?"
"Take a look in the freezer." I pointed to the side wall.
Alice lifted the lid, gasped, "That's even uglier than a Wyrm !"
"Twelve legs, a row of spines and a bad attitude." I shivered. "There's been nothing like it since the pre-Cambrian."
They took turns looking then shaking their heads.
"You made a pentagram work..." Andy took a shaky breath. "Give."
"Beginner's luck," I began. "I made a three-footer in my dad's garage, tried it with a car battery for power and an old spot-lamp as ballast. Next thing, there was a layer of fog in the middle. I poked a spare rake handle into it as far as I dared, found no bottom. So I grabbed my lap-top, clipped an old web-cam to the pole and poked it through. Swampy jungle, soggy cycads, full cloud cover.
"I was just starting to believe my eyes when, Blink ! The camera cut off. Half the pole went, too.
"I'd done nothing, changed nothing, but something had sheared through pole and cable in the fog layer." I shivered. "So I shut the power off, went out and bought a dozen poles plus a bunch of cheap web-cams."
"I still can hardly believe it..." Alice shook her head. "A pentagram works ?"
"It's the angles and the cross-overs." I shrugged. "A plain coil won't work."
"Tesseract." Jenny nodded slowly. "The shadow of a four-dimensional shape."
"Funny thing; when I poked my second pole-cam through the fog, there was no trace of the rest of the first one. I was just puzzling that the view seemed slightly different, when Blink ! I'd lost the second one." I took a careful breath. "Cost me a couple more pole-cams before I figured the timing; Three minutes and forty-two seconds. That's how long I had between powering up the pentagram and losing the pole. Each time, it was a different view. I checked that by dropping a small plastic plant-pot through. Three minutes plus change later, I was looking at a different patch of jungle. And then another and another."
"Sure make it risky to use..." Jenny whispered.
"You tried increasing the current ?" Geoff turned to me.
"Yes. Sweet spot's four Amps. Above, there's no timing improvement." I shrugged. "Still, that bumped it up to four minutes and twenty seconds."
"That's enough for a survey." Andy nodded. "So you built another ?"
"Yes. I wanted to know if distances here matched there."
"Cool. Did they ?"
"Near enough."
"But you got constructive interference ?" Geoff guessed.
"Too right. They held their lock for nearly six minutes. I tried them in different positions, ended up hanging the second from the rafters." I pointed to my tower. "Best position was parallel, spaced equal to a long side. That held for fourteen minutes and three seconds."
"So you came here ?" Jenny warily toed a bin-bag overflowing with used pizza boxes.
"Yes. I convinced Uncle Jim to give me a line of credit, worked night and day to get this working..." I sighed. "If I hadn't kept such daft hours, I wouldn't have taken so long to figure why the lock kept jumping..."
"Different day length ?" Pete offered.
"Got it in one." I nodded slowly. "Our day-length is slightly longer, so the portal location skips Eastwards."
"That means a location won't come around for a week at least." Pete pondered the logistics.
"About that," I agreed. "When I got the big pentagram running --With the two smaller ones in tandem, it's good for forty-seven minutes-- I began dropping numbered beach-balls as markers--"
"Uh, won't they blow away ?" Alice wondered.
"Not half-full of water." I shrugged. "I'm still waiting for them to come around."
"Won't the timing be critical ?" Andy asked.
"Yes," I admitted. "That's why there's so many."
"And the horror in the freezer ?" Helen pondered its oversized mandibles.
"Initial portal locations were about five feet above a broad wet-land." I shuddered. "That beastie came charging through when I hit a rise. Chased me around the room." I pointed to a half-used CO2 fire extinguisher. "I stunned it with an icy blast, then bundled it into the freezer." I sighed. "Land's been up and down a couple of times since; portal's been underground all morning."
"How can we help ?" Andy made it official.
"Set up a sampling schedule," I began. "Think of it as a transect."
"Mud scoop !" Pete nodded. "Coring a lake !"
"Yeah !" Andy agreed. "Like working from bog-boards or a boat !"
"We could drill cores from the rock," Geoff offered. "Andy, we may have to co-opt your friend Alex."
"He's between jobs." Andy grinned. "He'd jump at the chance."
"Flora and fauna survey !" Alice laughed. "A gazillion species new to science !"
"We'll need tables and a microscope," Helen bid.
"And some-one to keep track of the documentation ?" Jenny offered.
"Yeah !" Andy cheered.
"One thing, Dave..." Geoff looked thoughtful as he waved at the stacked pentagrams. "We can't keep all this a secret for long; what are you going to call it ?"
" 'Andrews Effect' sounds good," Pete suggested.
"Yeah, come on, Dave," Andy coaxed. "For once, don't be modest."
I shook my head. "Archibald Salter may have commissioned the original, but we'll never know where he got the design. Call it the 'Walgate Effect' and be done."
"Fair enough." Andy nodded. "Now, we passed a pub about a quarter mile down the road with a sign saying today's lunch special is 'Cottage Pie'. You need a square meal and I'm buying the drinks. Make this monster safe and let's go."
"Yeah !" Helen cheered. "Let's drink to the 'Walgate Effect' !"
"Final team check-- All non-essential folk off-site ?" I read from my check-list.
Pete spoke into his PMR hand-set, waited, listened, nodded. "Yes, they've gathered in the pub's beer-garden."
"Triffid status ?"
"Wireless camera is live," Geoff replied. "We're getting a stable picture. Remote control channel is clear. Mast motor tests okay. Pyro continuity is okay. Pentagram battery is okay."
"Scout status ?"
"My gas-mask seal is good. Intercom live," Andy reported. "I'm ready."
"Scout extraction team ?"
"B.A. units on-line," Malcolm replied. "We're good to go."
"Logging media running to cloud ?"
"Confirmed," Geoff said after a careful scan of his console.
"T minus one minute."
"Any issues, folks ?" I prompted.
"Nothing."
"No problems."
"In the groove."
"Okay, Alice, give us a count-down."
"Thirty. Twenty. Ten. Five. Four, three, two, one-- Go !"
I hit the main power switch precisely on the click. Half way across our high shed, fog formed within the wide pentagram that formed the base of the towering stack. I called,"Pole cam ?"
Geoff approached the edge, probed beyond the fog.
"I see land," Alice reported. "Hey, there's something yellow in the distance ! Hold the pole steady, Geoff... What is that ?"
"It's a beach-ball !" Pete grinned. "Dave, that's nice timing ! We've come down right on your marker !"
"Thanks to all your efforts," I acknowledged. "Okay, ladder."
Geoff removed the pole, hung a short, alloy ladder from a waiting cross-bar. "Firm ground," he confirmed.
"Ready when you are, Andy."
Andy nodded, checked his gas mask's fit for the final time. He stepped into a shallow tray of disinfectant, paddled his boots, then clambered onto the frame. Ducking the cross-bar, he descended the ladder and vanished into the fog. "I'm down," he called. "Send the Triffid."
Geoff slid the hoist along its scaffolding rail, began to lower the triangular assembly, which resembled a rolling barbeque.
"Down ! Disconnecting hoist. Rolling now." Andy towed it fifty paces, then settled it on the low vegetation. "Triffid placed. Heading back."
After Andy cleared the fog, Geoff guided him onto the framework then pulled up the ladder. Both stepped clear, Andy careful to wait standing in the disinfectant tray.
"Scout safe," Geoff reported. "Clear to proceed with Phase One."
"Any issues ?" I asked, polled the shaken heads.
"Okay, Geoff. Initiate the remote portal then deploy the mast."
Geoff lifted a guard cover on his console, flipped a switch. Five seconds later, he moved a second switch from the neutral position. "Mast cam elevating. Passing event horizon. Uh, I lose the bet."
Miles of undulating prairie spread before the rising camera. In the distance, many large animals grazed. Geoff operated a pan control to log the scene.
"That's a third Earth !" Alice gasped.
"It's like something out of the Pleistocene !" Pete muttered, shaking his head.
"So is it 'Many Worlds' ?" Geoff wondered. "Or those missing dimensions from String Theory ?"
"No bet," I stated. "Okay, Geoff, retract the mast before the portal times-out."
"On it." Geoff reversed the mast control. "Mast stowed. Powering down portal. Safe."
"On my way." Andy retraced his steps and retrieved the Triffid. After towing it to the foot of the ladder, he clambered up the ladder and waited, stood in the tray.
Geoff removed the ladder, returned to his console and reported, "Far-field test complete. Ready for Phase Two."
"Initiate remote portal."
Geoff flicked the first switch, waited, threw the second. "Still getting up-link. Deploying mast. Uh, it's the same prairie. I lose that bet, too."
"So no-one's going to use our portals to smuggle stuff," I heaved a sigh of relief. "You won't believe how much sleep I've lost over this."
"No WMD delivery system..." Alice shivered. "I've had such nightmares..."
"We're still going to have people dumping trash," Pete worried. "And it would make the ultimate gulag..."
"We'll have to work on a detection system," I admitted. "Okay, Geoff, retract the Triffid's mast and close that portal."
"Done," he reported, then clambered up to lower the ladder. Andy descended just long enough to attach the hoist. Taking himself clear, he gratefully shed his gas mask. After removing the ladder, Geoff winched the Triffid clear of the event horizon, then retreated to a safe distance. "I'm done."
"Right, guys," I said, opening the main power switch, "we've just made history again. Let's finish up here and go for a beer."
"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for this opportunity to present our grant request in person." I looked around the Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council meeting. "I'm Dave Andrews, team leader of the Walgate Project. My assistant is Jenny Smith, our Archivist.
"First, I'd like to show you something unexpected." I slid a two-foot pentagram from my sports-bag and laid it on the table. Mutters rose. "This is no joke," I said, "this bears as much resemblance to the familiar symbol as a Baghdad Battery does to the Philosopher's Stone."
They were intelligent folk; my arcane analogy gave them pause. I set a chunky torch beside the pentagram, attached two wires to the waiting connectors. After laying a fistful of chopsticks beside the torch, I set a digital timer beside them. I switched on the timer and torch together.
Fog formed in the central pentagon. This did not go un-noticed. I slid a chopstick from its wrap and dipped it into the fog. It did not stop at the underlying table. After raising and lowering it several times, I opened my fingers so that it dropped through and was gone. More mutters rose.
"No trick." I shook my head. "You're welcome to try with a probe of your own choosing."
After exchanging glances, a junior member was elected to investigate. First, he tried with a chopstick. His surprise on meeting no resistance was evident. Then, he tried with a ball-point pen from his pocket. He swept that to and fro. I offered a two-foot length of 10mm copper tubing. He examined this, flexed it warily, probed the fog. Then, hastily, he stooped and peered beneath the table. Turning to the committee, he reported, rather shakily, "There's no trick I can see."
"I stumbled on this effect following our dig at Walgate Hall," I explained.
"Journal of Anthropology..." Some-one muttered. "The odd pentagram in the ice-house ?"
"The Walgate Wyrm ?" Muttered some-one else.
"Our working hypothesis is that the Carrington Event of 1859 serendipitously energised the Walgate pentagram, allowing the Wyrm, an opportunist predator, to pass."
Every member of the committee spoke as one. After several minutes, when the chairman managed to restore order, he admitted, rather thoughtfully, "Given the evidence, that does not seem such an improbable proposition."
"Thank you." I nodded, continued, "We've yet to spot a Wyrm in its natural environment. A significant experimental difficulty is that the 'Earth' on the other side rotates slightly faster than ours. The location where a portal will open drifts Eastwards at a walking pace. In practice, a portal will 'hop' to a new location after a life-time set by the pentagram's size and configuration..."
I pointed to our table-top device. "That 'hops' after three minutes, bisecting anything in its maw. By stacking larger devices and tweaking their spacing, we've got the life-span up to forty-five minutes, allowing us to do some Science. Jenny ?"
"We have carried out a preliminary planetary transect at our current latitude." She handed out several spiral-bound reports. "On land, we recorded panorama, insolation, temperature, humidity and wind-speed, took a scoop-sample of the surface layer plus a soil core. Where the portal intersected high ground, we drilled a rock core from the face. Over water, we took a bucket sample and deployed a sonar probe. Due to budget constraints, we were limited to leisure-grade equipment, with a maximum depth range of 150 metres. We tested the water for temperature, dissolved oxygen, sodium, calcium and magnesium. A sub-sample was filtered and mounted for microscopic examination."
"A respectable effort," the chairman allowed. He hesitated for a moment, then went on, "Given such a drift, are you able to re-visit sampling points ?"
"The Longitude problem ? Currently, we can repeat to within half a kilometre, although several have been closer." I stated. "We had some luck and spotted one of my early markers. After that, it was a matter of refining the timing. The issues now are the dither inherent in portal formation and errors introduced by manual operation of the portal switchgear. We hope to move to electronic switching, which should narrow the window further."
"What are your plans, Mr. Andrews ?"
"To date, the project has been run by volunteers, on credit. I'd like to pay the staff and square the bank." That got a chuckle. "We should revisit the oceanic points with hydrographic grade sonar, and perhaps sample at several depths. If possible, we'd work with the Maritime & Coastguard Agency or an Oceanography faculty." I took a careful breath. "I'd like to set up one or more semi-mobile units which could do transects to the North and South of our initial line, operating for about six months at each location."
"That would be essential to build up a map."
"I'd like to explore the possibility of autonomous weather stations," I said. "Solar powered, with a radio-locator bleep, able to download their annual log by wifi."
"Ingenious..."
"I'd like to emplace a network of seismometers, but the 45 minutes on-site limit seems prohibitive. We're still studying options."
The chairman nodded politely.
"There are several theoretical aspects I'd like to investigate. Is the effect limited to pentagrams ? What about heptagrams and nanograms ? What effect does varying their detailed geometry have ? Can portals be detected ?" I hesitated, went on, "It did occur to us to open a small portal 'over there' and see where it went. Several bets were lost when the pole-cam showed a Pleistocene prairie, complete with hairy mega-fauna--"
"There's more than one Earth out there ?"
"At least two." I shook my head. "Where a portal would go from the second, I don't know. Investigating the second is fraught; We've run into the physical limits of our rig plus the on-site limit."
"I must say, you have been busy..."
"Thank you." I nodded, said, "We've had ample time to consider upsides and down-sides to the Walgate Effect. They run from the banal to the scary. As my colleague, Geoff, said, putting a portal on top of a power-station chimney gets rid of a lot of emissions for free."
"Ah..."
"With a landscape that varies from tropical swamp to rain-shadow desert, there's an awful lot of land to lose some-one or some-thing in. And it's about 17 weeks before a location comes around." I shrugged. "There's also considerable risk to experimenters. First, the mean sea-level is about seventy feet above ours. We've not risked opening a low-level portal for fear of a flood. Second, our transect did not encounter hydrothermal springs or magma. Having a geyser or lava flow erupt into your lab could spoil your entire day. That's why we have a kill-switch and safety operator positioned as far across the room as we can manage."
"That sounds a reasonable precaution..."
"It did occur to us that you might prefer a more anonymous name for additional transects," I offered. "We came up with 'British OrthoLateral Survey."
"Quite !" The chairman chuckled. After leafing through his documents, he asked, "And how much of a grant did you request for this year ?"
"Initially, we'd do a lot of prototyping and proof-of-concept work. Our major investments in field stations and emplaced instrumentation would be next year." I gulped, steeled myself. "Half a million, please."
"Come in, George. Grab a seat. How can I help you ?"
He took the end chair of the three in my small office, hesitated, then blurted, "I, uh, don't seem to be getting anywhere detecting portals..."
I'd been expecting this for more than two weeks. I calmed my voice, said, "Don't worry about it, George. I said when I hired you that it may be beyond our tech level. Seems daft that a portal which takes a couple of seconds to form leaves no obvious electromagnetic signature, but that's life..."
"I even tried stacking ten thousand scans; Nothing came out of the noise-- Nothing !"
"That's impressively stubborn," I admitted. "But, yeah, this is blue-sky research. It could be spitting neutrinos or gravity waves for all we know. So, take a couple of days off, catch up on your sleep, walk the local hills. Then go back over your notes, see what assumptions you've made. Try breaking their paradigms. Remember, you're dealing with something that our best theory says shouldn't exist."
"You don't mind ?"
"If it was easy, Geoff or I might have solved it."
"Ah..."
"A Walgate pentagram should not behave as it does, but simply running a couple of Amps through its tangle of copper re-writes reality. We don't yet know what parts of its topology are important. We still haven't had time to play with 'higher order' 'grams." I shrugged. "Be worth spending a few days exploring them. Compare and contrast. You never know, there may be something interesting."
"Ah..."
"At the very least, higher order 'grams have more potential portal area relative to their overall size."
"I can see how that would be useful..."
"Well, that's something to look forward to." I nodded. "So, go and chill out for a couple of days. Come back fresh."
"Th- thank you."
"No problem, George. Take care out there..." I waited until he was clear, then put my head in my hands. Privately, I'd given his chance of success as perhaps ten percent, and it looked like I was right.
It was still worth spending the money. George Whately had a First in Electronics, plus a Masters in Radio Astronomy. He wanted a 'year in industry' before doing a PhD, and we were damned lucky to get him. He'd hand-built elegant electronic switchgear that reduced our portal re-location errors to within a hundred metres. He'd upgraded the Triffid and blown new life into our creaking network storage drives. He was also six-foot four, rake thin and painfully shy...
"Dave ?"
"Oh, hi, Magda !" I looked up. With her tweed outfits and horn-rimmed glasses, she looked like your favourite granny. She was a lot sharper than that.
"Is George okay ?" She narrowed her eyes. "He looked ill..."
"He's been pushing himself too hard. I've given him a few days off to catch his breath."
"Ah..."
"Geoff and I did have a go at detecting portals, but we needed a real expert to tackle the problem." I shrugged. "Looks like it's beyond him, too."
"That's too bad..."
"I've stuck him with the job of investigating higher order 'grams. It's almost make-work for some-one so bright, but there's bound to be something useful."
"I'll make a manager of you, yet !" Magda chuckled. "I just popped in to tell you we've had a call from the two marine specialists you were expecting; They're not lost, but they've had a flat and they're running slow on their space-saver tyre."
"Thanks... Uh, should we offer to get a mobile repair service onto site ?"
"That would be a nice touch." Magda nodded. "And, while I'm here, could you sign these requisitions ?"
"Okay... What am I looking at ?"
"A bale of ten-mm copper tubing plus assorted fittings."
"Yes, we get through a lot building pentagrams."
"Bottled water for the big dispenser in the coffee lounge. Instant coffee. Assorted biscuits. A crate of paper for the laser printers and photo-copier. Toner cartridges for same. Flip charts and pens."
"Just the usual, then. Okay." I read each, signed and dated the sheets. "Hmm... How are our costs running ?"
"We're doing okay."
"That's a relief," I admitted, then asked, "When's the next payroll due ?"
"Next week..." Magda grinned. "All under control."
"Thanks..." I shook my head. "I don't know how we'd manage without you !"
"This is the most fun I've had in years !" Magda laughed. "And you're over-paying me, too !"
"We all get the same pay." I shrugged. "Beats squabbling over skill grades."
"It's not what I'm used to..." She shook her head. "But that first time when you showed me the sampler being hoisted through the big rig-- Wow !"
"You're also a qualified First Aider, you keep the evacuation plan up to date, plus you keep track of a dozen arcane legal requirements that I would never have thought of. And, best of all, you secure our audit trail !" I gave her my most winning smile. "You're worth every penny !"
"Why, thank you !" Magda smiled. "Would you like a plate of biscuits and a jug of coffee for your visitors ?"
"Yes, please."
"Okay !"
I went back to reviewing the latest paper my team were submitting. This reported a pretty air-plant they'd managed to snatch from the fork of a branch in the Western wetlands during the big transect. Like so much we'd discovered, it looked half-familiar but differed in detail from our norms. It was a robust plant; Helen had already managed to root cuttings. We had a dozen sprouting in window-sill pots. After Kew got their type-specimen, we'd license our 'exotic' to commercial growers.
"Thank you !" I met them at the door. "Hi, I'm Dave Andrews. I'm very glad you're safe. Would you like us to call for an on-site repair ?"
"If you could, please; We had to swop a rear tyre onto the front because a space-saver ruins the handling."
"Okay... Magda ? Could you ring the local tyre franchise ? Charge it to 'Entertaining'. Thanks..." I led the pair to my office, sat them down. "There'll be coffee and biscuits in a while."
"Thank you... I'm Lieutenant Jack Caldwell, Executive Officer of the RSS Discovery," the taller said, shaking my hand.
"And I'm Colin McLoud, instrument specialist, National Oceanography Centre."
"Pleased to meet you !"
"I must admit, Mr. Andrews--" Lt. Caldwell began.
"Dave, please."
"Dave... We were, uh, a bit puzzled by your request for a hydrographic-grade dunking sonar..." His steady eyes roamed the office and the shabby shed beyond. Our office, storage and lounge facilities were in the next unit to the big pentagram so there was no clue to our business. "Your references were excellent, but..."
"Doesn't look maritime," I admitted. "As you haven't been briefed, I'll have to ask you to keep a big confidence."
"Commercial sensitivity ?" Colin wondered.
"That, too..." I reached down the side of my desk, grabbed my pet pentagram and laid it on the bare work-top. A nearby book-shelf yielded torch and stop-watch. I connected the wires, switched on. The usual fog formed in the centre. I grabbed a length of copper pipe from the second shelf and, after poking most of it into the fog, stirred it around.
Jack swallowed loudly, found his voice, "May I try ?"
"Sure." I handed him the intact pipe. He repeated my actions then, wordlessly, handed the pipe to his colleague.
Colin was made of sterner stuff. After dipping and stirring the pipe, he returned it and said, "Who'd have thought there was a grain of truth in those old legends ?"
"Exactly." I cut the power, waited for the fog to dissipate.
"Where does it go ?"
"Earth-Two. Similar gravity, familiar DNA, but half a billion years of difference. It rotates slightly faster than here, so portal opening locations drift Eastwards at about walking pace. For technical reasons, the longest we can hold even a big portal open at a given location is forty-five minutes. This little one only lasts three minutes. After that, the portal snaps to a new location."
"That sounds bad..."
"You would not believe how many pole-cams we lost..." I shuddered. "Well, based on our transect at this latitude, there's a mega-continent plus a vast ocean."
"Gondwanaland ?" Colin offered.
"That's a fair analogy," I agreed. "We reckon the climate is inter-glacial, near a high-stand. Sea level is about seventy feet above ours. The Western coastline is a wide, sub-tropical swamp. Think Sunderbans or Everglades. Then there's soggy flood-plains until a massive mountain range which runs North-South about a third of the way East. Its arid rain-shadow zone shades into prairie then coastal wetlands."
"Ah..." Jack nodded slowly. "You sampled each location as it passed..."
"Seventeen weeks, on the hour, every hour," I admitted. "We worked three shifts."
"Phew !" Colin allowed. "That beats our cruises !"
"We only had leisure-grade sonar, with a maximum depth range of 150 metres."
"Which explains your request." Jack nodded again. "Uh, what about the Longitude problem ?"
"We've recently improved the big rig's switch-gear such that we can return to within a hundred metres."
"That's impressive without GPS !" Jack grinned. "Well, I think we can supply you with a suitable sonar unit. It was designed for helicopter deployment, for where you really, really would not want to take a survey ship."
"That sounds exactly what we need." I nodded. "We'll need details of minimum winch diameter and such..."
"The instrument comes with a technician." Colin raised a hand.
"And we'd be delighted to have you," I replied.
"Uh, what happens if you open a portal on Earth-Two ?" Jack asked.
"Good question." I nodded. "It reaches Earth-Three. So far, we've glimpsed stony desert, salt flats and rolling prairie with hairy mega-fauna. Unfortunately, we've only been able to grab pan-scans, and then only where the land is low enough. Finding keyholes is problematic. We don't even have enough data to determine day length. Hasn't stopped us trying, of course."
"Real Science !"
"We're running a probe at the moment. Would you like a look at our big rig ?"
"Yes, please !"
I led them towards the inter-unit door, but stopped to ask, "Magda, could you hold the coffee and biscuits for a while ?"
"Okay ! The repair van will be here in five minutes or so."
"Thank you..." I opened the door a couple of inches, whispered to Alice who was at the safety console, "Hi ! May we come in ?"
"Sure ! We're ten minutes into this Triffid deployment. Just about to initiate the phase-2 portal... Okay, there it goes. Geoff's raising the mast-cam."
"Come in..." I gestured. They peered at the stacked big-rig then watched in amazement as the big wall-screen's picture lifted from a grassy river-bank to a stony wasteland.
"Okay, folks," Geoff called. "We have a keyhole ! Retracting mast !" As soon as that was clear, he announced, "Re-initialising portal ! Elevating phase-3 stage ! Initiating--"
Our low-key celebrations --biscuits, soft drinks and coffee-- had been going for about fifteen minutes when Geoff caught up with me, waving a print-out. "Dave, we've got a weird one !"
"What is it, Geoff ?"
"Earth-4-- Air pressure is scary-low, half that of Everest !"
"What ?"
"Hundred-thirty millibars, give or take. And the Oxygen level is really, really low."
"Ten percent ?"
"No, nought point three, plus or minus point two. Could be less. My meter's not accurate down that far."
"That is seriously low, almost anoxic..." Lt. Jack Caldwell shook his head slowly.
"Agreed," Colin McLoud muttered. "I've heard of poison caves and gas-trap hollows, but not in the open..."
"First time we've had anything so low." I nodded. "What else is there, Geoff ?"
"It's mostly Carbon DiOxide, a few percent Nitrogen and the rest is Methane. We'll have to get it professionally analysed for main and trace."
"Sure, get it done, Geoff, we need those decimals. Huh, I'm glad we won't be planning field trips any time soon." I shivered. "There's not enough for an ozone layer, even-- We'd need Mars-suits..."
"I rescued a sample of sand from the Triffid. That might give some clue to what's going on."
"Good thinking."
"My guess is blue-green algae didn't evolve on Earth-4."
"Or conditions are such cyanobacteria can't flourish ?" I thought it through. "Perhaps it's a desert planet ? Big Mars ?"
"Limited ocean area ? A few isolated lakes or seas ? Well, we've found one key-hole. We can keep hunting."
"Uh-huh." I nodded. "Thanks again, Geoff."
"Uh, I heard you sent George home..."
"He'd hit a stone wall." I shrugged. "I told him to take a couple of days off then break some paradigms. Failing that, to play with higher order 'grams and see what happens."
"You reckon he'll figure something ?"
"I hope..." I shrugged again. "There's a fair chance he won't. He's repeated everything we tried, but to much higher sensitivity. He's tried multiple antennae, stacking scans, the works. Needs a brain-storm."
"Well, if any-one can, he'll find a way to detect pentagrams."
"I hope so..." I sighed. "Uh, has any-one rung Andy and Helen ?"
"Not me..." Geoff shook his head.
"Okay. My job... Excuse me, gents, I'll be back in a couple of minutes." I cut through the happy crowd, stealing several biscuits as I passed the tray. With my office door closed to cut the noise, I dialled their mobile.
Helen answered promptly, "Hi, Dave ! How did the hunt for Earth-4 go ?"
"Really well, Helen ! Team got lucky, found a keyhole onto Earth-3. Their next stage portal came up in a dune. Enough sand drained for the mast-cam to peek out. Big, bad desert, air's thinner than Everest. Geoff reckons the Oxygen level is near zero--"
"Wow ! Strike that off our holiday list !" Andy called.
"No Oxygen ?" Alice mused. "Archean ? No blue-green algae ? Place could be like Mars, but bigger..."
"Our thoughts, too... Uh, how's the photography going ?"
"Brilliant ! Whose idea was it to take a camper van up the Pennines, hoisting our mast-cam through the ceiling pentagram every time we stop ?"
"Mine, and don't you forget it !" Andy laughed over engine noise.
"Are you getting stereo pairs of the big range's Western foot-hills ?"
"Yes, they're really good ! We're seeing up valleys, getting an idea of the geology !"
"Great ! You take care !"
"Sure ! Bye !"
"Bye !" I returned to the party, spoke to my visitors, "We've a field-team roaming the Pennines to get better views of the big range. Even their couple of hundred metres altitude makes a significant difference."
Lt. Caldwell nodded, said, "Are you going to repeat your big transect at other latitudes ?"
"I hope so. We haven't got funding yet, but it means a six-month commitment at each site."
"You'll want to move the sonar unit between sites ?"
"First, we prove we can do a good job here," I stated. "We're also considering long-stay weather stations with wifi down-load."
"Times like this you miss satellites..." Colin sighed.
"That would be the ideal solution," I admitted. "Even a basic web-cam would give an instant map. Oh, for multi-spectral imaging... But that would mean bringing in the Yanks. For sure, they'd make it a Black Project and shut us out."
"You're keeping this all-Brit ?"
"For as long as we can." I shrugged. "Sooner or later, some-one's going to make the connection and build a working Walgate pentagram. Until then, we'll log as much data as we can."
"With the slippage," Lt. Caldwell mused, "there's no way to grab national territories."
"Won't stop people squatting," grumbled Colin. "And you'd get unscrupulous industries dumping their waste."
"Finding toxic trash would be a matter of luck." I sighed. "Tracing their portals needs tech we don't have."
"Hence your baffled expert ?"
"Alas, poor George..." I shrugged. "We can only hope... Hi, Magda !"
"Dave, gentlemen, the repair-man's finished and gone. He says you did well to control your car with that flat. He found a four-inch nail in the tyre."
"Ouch..." Colin muttered. "Wasn't the best extreme driving I've ever done, but..."
Lt. Caldwell clapped him across the shoulders. "You got us here safe."
"There's that..." Colin admitted, then turned to me. "Mr. Andrews, Dave, from what we've seen today, I can recommend that my department fully support your project. It, uh, wasn't what we were expecting, but you're at the bleeding edge of this field and we'll not gainsay you."
"Thank you."
"I've always had a hankering to do a 'James Cook' and explore unknown seas," stated Lt. Caldwell. "Just knowing there's unexplored oceans out there gives a certain frisson..."
"I'll keep you current," promised Colin, then shook my hand. "A pleasure !"
"Also !" Lt. Caldwell shook my hand, too, then saluted my team. "Fair winds and safe harbours !"
The team raised a cheer as I showed my visitors to the door then watched them drive away.
The party soon decamped to the local pub, leaving just me and Magda on-site. I was revising a report on the interesting, salt-tolerant, not-quite grass in a series of our Earth-2 samples when the phone rang.
"Dave ! Dave ! Check your e-mail !" Helen shouted.
"Okay..." I opened the application, found a 'ReadMeNow' with several images attached. I clicked on them, blinked. "Huh ? Are those walls ? Their geometry's weird..."
"Yes ! They're made of huge stones ! And see the doorway ?"
"Cyclopean !"
"We're trying to get closer before local sunset ! The lanes around here aren't helping, they run the wrong way--"
"Be careful," I urged. "You know where it is, we can find it again !"
"It would be four months !" Andy shouted. "We only have this chance !"
"Got to go," Helen gasped. "Need to map-read, losing my cell signal..."
With that, they were gone. I sat and stared at those images until the minutes turned to an hour, then an hour and a half. Each time I rang, they were off-net. There was no phone call, no ping from the e-mail. Magda left at five. I sat in my lonely office until six, then locked up and headed for the pub and a bite to eat. I kept hoping my mobile would ring. I was still hoping when I laid it on the bedside table in my 'Bed & Breakfast'. Somehow, sleep came, haunted by those abhuman walls...
My mobile's shrilling dragged me from ominous dreams. "H-- Hello ?"
"Don't worry, Dave, we're okay !"
"Uh ? Helen ? What happened ?"
"Local fog came down, and the stupid sat-nav sent us in circles. Kept turning us onto farm tracks and bridle-ways-- In a camper van ! Took us until now to find a way out of that vale, to get a solid cell signal..."
"I'm glad you're safe !"
"Us, too... It was so spooky ! We could barely see the road as we crept along ! Now, here's Andy..."
"We got close to the Earth-2 site, Dave. Real close. We could actually see into the complex. There's no evidence for a roof or upper-storeys. There's just zig-zag ground-floor corridors and dozens of rooms. But they're built on a huge scale. Uh, we had a few decades of neglect at Walgate Hall, so this must be centuries old. Yet those walls stand well clear of the scrub-- Dozens of feet clear !"
"Any sign of life ?"
"Not a sausage..." Andy took a careful breath. "Dave, it doesn't look defensive. It's barely above the river's flood-plain, so it's no acropolis. There's a hint of a road going North-West, but we couldn't see any field boundaries, burial mounds or domestic structures. Could just mean they're buried or degraded. Perhaps they were timber or mud-brick and just eroded away ? Some image enhancement might pull up clues."
"Ritual site ?" That was the Archaeologist's catch-all for enigmae.
"It's complex enough," Andy admitted. "But I reckon we've got their quarry. There's an odd feature about half a mile due West, a gaping gash in a big outcrop."
"Well spotted !"
"Thanks ! Back to Helen--"
"Dave, we're heading towards Buxton-- With a bit of luck, we'll get the alignment of that crop-mark we think is a road."
"Take care out there !"
"Thanks... One thing is so weird-- There isn't a right-angle in the place."
"Huh ?"
"Doorways are trapezoidal, rooms are trapezoidal. Corridors zig-zag. Even internal walls are battered by about 15 degrees."
"That is weird..."
"You said it !" Helen laughed. "I'll e-mail all our photos as soon as we get more than one bar on our laptop's 3G widget."
"Okay, thanks... You take care ?"
"Will do !"
I closed the call with a shaking hand. I'd feared the worst, but Helen and Andy had come through unscathed. Better, they seemed to have grabbed wondrous photos. Even with that relief, I could not relax. I texted the rest of our team with a brief message, then put my head on my pillow and just stared at the wall. Sleep came so slowly...
---
I was deep in thought, half-way through my usual breakfast of coffee and toast, when my mobile shrilled again.
"Dave ! Dave !"
"Helen ?"
"You won't believe what we've just spotted ! A huge herd of herbivores ! Hundreds and hundreds of them in a range of sizes ! I reckon it's a complete population sample !"
"Oh, well done ! Finally, something that eats Earth-2's not-quite grass ! What are they like ?"
"Giant armadillos !"
"Huh ? Ankylosaurus ? Or Glyptodon ?"
"Can't tell, just that they're big, really big ! I reckon some are the size of this camper van !"
"Uh..."
"Dave ? Are you okay ?"
My neck hairs had risen. "Any sign of what hunts them ?"
Helen hesitated. In the background, I heard Andy swearing. Finally, Helen said, "We haven't seen any mega-predators around the herd, but they could be nocturnal."
"That's a fair call..." I took a deep breath. "Okay, you've got lucky twice. Keep your eyes open. If there's a T-Rex analogue on the prowl, we'll have to change our draft plans for a long-stay team."
"Too right !" I heard Andy snarl. "We'll need artillery !"
I got to our industrial unit just as Steph, our Microscopist, and Botanist Alex arrived. "Guys, could you pass the word ? Helen and Andy rang me at breakfast; they've just spotted a big herd of mega-herbivores. I'm putting their photos on the server. Take a good look at the beasties and the building complex, have a think, then team-meet at ten."
"Gotcha, Dave !"
After five minutes to upload the pics, I set to work with Google. My desk PC was hard-wired to our ADSL wireless modem, so I had internet access while the others were loading pics via wifi. A few minutes pulled up basic data on the prehistoric Ankylosaur and the eerily similar but unrelated Pleistocene Glyptodon. They left me scratching my head. I sighed, began chasing tangents. I was almost glad when ten o'clock came around. I noticed George was sat with the others. I'd texted him automatically, was impressed that he'd come in. Magda found a seat at the back.
"Okay, guys !" I called. "As I see it, we've three problems: First is those armoured mega-beasties. Second is whatever hunts them. Third is mapping the complex within a portal's time-frame. At least we've four months before the site comes around... Ideas ?"
"Ankylosaurs were egg-layers," Pete began. "Glyptodons were mammals, so should bear live young like armadillos."
"Uh-huh." Alice nodded. "Other possibilities are marsupial--"
"Diprotodon," Geoff offered. "Extinct giant wombat, weighed up to two tonnes. Wasn't armoured, but..."
"A precursor candidate," Alice agreed. "Possible joker is a monotreme like the platypus or, here, the echidna, the spiny ant-eater."
"Uh ?" George looked puzzled. "Sorry, what's so odd about them ? Beyond their looks ?"
"Everything," Alice explained. "They're mammals, but they lay eggs. Their DNA's a weird mix of mammalian and reptilean. They've ten sex genes..."
"Right..." George nodded slowly. "Thanks."
"From spines to osteoderm armour isn't so far." I nodded. "Good call"
Alex lifted a tentative hand. "Just to cover all the bases ? That not-quite grass was too tall to show legs. Could they be giant snails ?"
"Yuck !" Alice gulped. "Well, I think our biggest land snail's shell's about six inches across, but I know some slugs can grow to a foot long..."
"Your Walgate Wyrm is larger."
"You've got us there, Alex," I admitted. "If Helen and Andy can take better photos today, that should resolve the leg count. We'd need to DNA-test a beastie's dung to get a better idea of phylogeny. Okay, what about predators ?"
The team hesitated.
"Giant ground lizards ?" I prompted. "Komodo or Salty writ larger ?"
"T-Rex analogues," Pete said. "Reptile or mega-chicken."
"American Lion," Geoff suggested. "Up to 350 kilos. Possibly hunted as a pride."
"Wasn't there a giant American bear, too ?" Alice remembered. "Biggest mammalian carnivore ?"
"Yes, the Bulldog Bear weighed up to a tonne," Alex agreed. "What about Dire Wolves ? They might run in a pack."
"They'd be a force of nature." I dropped in my findings. "Or giant hyenas, like the Pachycrocuta ? Weighed up to 200 kilos ? Could crush elephant bones ?"
"I can't imagine a giant, carnivorous platypus," I admitted, "but their males have a venomous spur; scaled up, it could knock down prey."
"Nasty," Alice allowed. "Can we rule out giant snakes ? Please ?"
"Above a certain size, they can't shift on land, so I'd hope so..." I shrugged. "Same for spiders, scorpions and avian predators."
"Uh, Earth-2 should be too cool at our latitude for Titanoboa," Pete opined.
"Don't forget Wyrms," Alex spoke up. "From what I was told, they can move really fast when they try."
"Too right !" I shivered. "At a guess, they could get up to Elephant Seal size. What's that ? Anyone ?"
"Three tons for the bulls, I think," Alice offered.
"Oof !" I shook my head.
"It's a real jungle out there..." Geoff shook his head, too. "We'd certainly want the portal as near to that complex as possible."
"Agreed." I laid out the details. "We've got the approximate longitude from the photo times, we'd have to get there early and sneak peeks with a pole-cam. With luck, we'd get within a hundred yards."
"There's twenty-five rooms," Alice said. "That's ninety seconds per room plus a safety margin. Can't be done. Not well, anyway."
"Those zig-zag corridor segments count as rooms," Jenny warned.
"Two camera teams, then." Geoff shrugged. "One takes the left rooms, the other takes the right. They've three minutes per."
"Camera on a pan platform ?" Pete sat up. "There's nifty software that can turn a series of piccies into 3-D."
"You'd need a measuring pole in the scene for scale," Jenny warned. "And you'd need to walk around behind the camera."
"I've seen a one-shot system," George said. "It had an overhead mirror."
"Ah ?" I leaned forwards. "That would save a lot of time !"
"Depends how well you want their walls documenting." Jenny shook her head. "Those are big rooms, easily twenty feet across. If the walls are just bare rocks, one photo per room is fine. If there's any symbols or decorations, we may need a multiple frame solution to capture enough pixels per square centimetre."
"Any hint of detail in the pics ?" I nodded towards the wall-screen. "I tried zooming in, but they pixelated."
"No," Alice said. "Could be finer than the grain, or only on interior walls."
"We'd need a team of three-- One guarding the entrance, one to each side," Geoff suggested.
"Do we have a tele-operator option ?" I wondered. "An ROV ?"
"That tall grass is the problem," George stated. "My brother and his friend built some robots, but most only worked on smooth surfaces. While the tracked ones could handle stairs or a pile of rocks, they could barely manage a mown lawn."
"Needs something larger ?" I prompted.
"Much larger." George nodded slowly. "You need something the size of a quad-bike for its ground clearance, and that raises all sorts of problems."
"The motor controllers ?" Geoff asked.
"Them." George sighed. "You're handling a lot of current anyway, but controllers must be seriously over-built to handle spikes and stalls. Even now, they're more of an art than you'd expect. Devil's in the detail. Sure, I put the controller together for the big rig; That's a benign load. Drive motors are anything but. I'd strongly recommend a ready-made package for an ROV. In fact, it might be better to buy in a complete ROV base. Means we won't be bogged down repairing singed MOSFET boards or writing code for baulky micro-controllers."
"Okay..." I thought for a moment. "If... If we could mount a one-shot camera system on an ROV, it could be in and out of a room within a minute. That would give us a fair record without exposing anyone to risk. We could probably mount additional cameras with longer lenses to take sample close-ups."
"A bit like digging a series of sondes..." Pete nodded.
"If there's anything like cuneiform or petroglyphs," Jenny said, "they may need oblique lighting."
"That means a special rig." Alice shook her head. "There's no way to set it up quickly."
"It could be done with a pad of high intensity LEDs," George said. "Doesn't take any fancy switching."
"Drive the ROV close to the wall, have a macro lens on the camera ?" Jenny hoped.
"That could work !" Pete grinned.
"That's viable," George agreed.
"Okay." I nodded. "George, many thanks for coming in on your rest day."
"I couldn't pass this up !" He grinned.
"If you and Geoff could trawl Google for a suitable ROV base, I'd be very grateful. I don't have too much contingency funding available, but we've four months to juggle the budget."
"Sure."
"Pete, could you, Alice and Jenny follow up on that one-shot panorama thing, work out how many pixels per square centimetre we'd get ?"
"Can do."
"Helen and Andy are going to keep a special look-out for predators, so we may get more data through the day. Whatever comes, I'll bang straight onto the server. Okay, guys, thanks for your input."
They headed for the instant coffee, I slumped at my desk. At least the very beginnings of plans were in place. I noticed my e-mail blinking, opened the file.
It wasn't pics from Helen and Andy, but the weekly report from Harry Wallace, our mini-Wyrm hunter. The Joint Nature Conservation Committee had kindly classified Wyrms as an invasive species, and designated Harry as an Authorised Controller. A keen BMX cyclist, he roamed Walgate Hall's by-ways with cages and GPS, laying, baiting and checking. Once a month, he took his haul to Bristol. The Vet labs checked the catch, then found homes for them in zoos and institutions around the world. The going rate was ten thousand pounds per mini-Wyrm, of which the Vets and our project took a thousand each, the balance going to Uncle Jim. Even with a chunk set aside for tax, we were doing well.
As I read the list, my frown broke to a smile. Juvenile Wyrms had had a century and a half to disperse, the only constraint on their litter spacing and sizes being Momma Wyrm's restricted food supply. But, it seemed young Wyrms didn't go far. In nine months, we'd had no captures beyond a two mile radius, except for a nimble population which had followed Walgate Hall's winterburn to a stream, then spread along its banks. Last week, Harry reported a five-mile distant hot-spot, some boggy land near a pond whose overflow fed that stream. There, he'd caught a dozen. Today, he had seven more. When the dust settled, he'd write a wonderful paper on habitat preferences of juvenile Wyrms...
I forwarded the list of captured mini-Wyrms to Magda, so she would not be too surprised when their bounties arrived in the Project's bank account. Then, I had work to do, proof-reading our hefty paper on that not-quite grass. I soon picked up two minor spelling mistakes. A tedious hour later, I corrected the last-decimal error on an arcane distribution profile. They weren't much but, under the circumstances, I felt I'd done rather well. Even better, they took me through to lunch.
"Hi, Dave !" Peering around the office door, Mairi found me rubbing my weary eyes. "You're last again... Your usual ?"
"BLT and a chicken salad on brown ?"
"Here you go !" She landed the two packets and a paper plate on my desk. "Enjoy !"
"Thank you."
"Your Project's the Featherham Sandwich Bar's best customer." Mairi grinned. "A dozen hungry folk, always pleased to see me !"
"They know good food," I stated.
"Thanks ! Uh, if you don't mind my asking, what do you do ?"
I hesitated.
"You've got a really exotic air-plant on the window-sill, and all those plant-pots in the yard have a type of tall grass I've never seen before..."
"It's not that uncommon," I countered, knowing there was a mega-continent mostly covered in it.
"I went to Agricultural College."
"It's not grass," I admitted.
"GM rye ?"
"Not even close." I took a careful breath, laid out the official version. "We're a private research group. We're working our way through an expedition's gleanings."
"Ah..."
"There was too much material for the sponsor to handle, so we archive, collate and report." I gestured towards my computer screen. "That's the one we're doing on the not-quite grass."
"I'd appreciate a pre-print..."
"I'm sorry, the report is commercially sensitive."
"Okay..." Mairi sighed. "I won't be rude and ask stuff you can't answer..."
"Thank you." I had a thought, said, "The native plant is too toxic for food or feed. But it does have possibilities."
"Cross-breeding for pest resistance..." Mairi nodded.
I didn't tell her that its appearance was convergent evolution. Its closest kin was a foxtail. Its numerous fascinating attributes included a salt tolerance which exceeded red mangrove's...
"That sort of thing," I agreed. "It will probably go to the John Innes Centre for development."
"Wow !"
Make that 'definitely', but even the mighty 'John Innes' lacked the discretionary funds to take on this work. They first had to source several million in grants, with lots more to follow. Their botanist had done a splendid double take when he noticed our pots of not-quite grass. From his language, you'd have thought we were trying to reprise the 'Piltdown Man' hoax...
My e-mail chose that moment to ping. "Ah, sorry," I said, noting the sender, "I must deal with this..."
"Sure ! Thank you !" Mairi quietly shut my office door on her way out.
I took a deep breath, opened Helen's message.
'Caught up with herd at Alderley Edge, fording river. See attached at 45 seconds.'
I clicked on the movie file, watched as thousands of over-grown pill-bugs converged on their chosen crossing. In the chaos, many of the smaller were forced off the natural ford. Washed from the shallows, the lucky ones struggled ashore some distance down-stream.
Then, familiar dark shapes erupted from the depths. They grappled their victims. They forced them into deep water, dragged them down.
I gulped, paused the file, tried to gauge these aquatic Wyrms' size. If the not-quite grass there was a similar height to our potted samples, the Wyrms were taking prey about two metres tall. That made these Wyrms at least five metres long.
I swallowed bile. We had been so lucky at Walgate Hall, and we'd done better than we knew to contain our Wyrm's escape...
I steeled myself, replayed the file in slo-mo. I noticed each Wyrm took one victim, bore it off into deep water. There was no teamwork beyond that initial mobbing. And, after their dozen or so individual attacks, the predation ceased. There was no second wave.
I sighed. That was too much assuming based on barely eighty seconds snatched by the pole-cam. Perhaps this was the third, fourth or fifth wave of Wyrms to hit the herd ? Perhaps these Wyrms cached food in deep water so attacked repeatedly ?
I shook my head, forwarded the movie to our file-server. The existence of these amphibious mega-predators added a fresh complication to our tentative plans for a long-stay team on Earth-2. With them in the river, the water supply would need rather more consideration than just filling a couple of gallon drums at the bankside...
I saved the revised draft, grabbed my sandwiches and headed for the office coffee machine. Juggling lunch and my brimming 'The Boss' mug, I zig-zagged out to the yard where we'd set up several picnic benches. "Guys !" I called to the team. "We've got a new movie !" They all looked up. "Looks like Wyrms have grabbed Earth-2's crocodile niche !"
Most of the team had finished their lunch, were just chatting. The others hastily drank up and joined the rush indoors. I was left alone in the yard. I absently gnawed my way through the sandwiches, sipped my coffee. I had a lot to think about. Beyond the bank-side risk from those mega-Wyrms, there was the worry of how far they'd come onto land. I knew crocs stayed near the shore, but hippos ranged much further, especially at night. It made me glad the building complex was a good quarter mile from the river, and elevated from the flood-plain.
With my food gone and my coffee down to dregs, I strolled back to our office unit's small wash-up area. Rinsed, the mug went on the drainer for later. I joined the group huddled around our PCs, asked, "What do you think ?"
"Well, now we know Wyrms can get really, really big," Alice grumbled.
"I wouldn't fancy taking on one of those with a shock stick," admitted Geoff.
"Me, neither," Pete seconded the vote.
"I haven't a clue what it would take to stop a big Wyrm..." I shrugged, went on, "We still don't know what the land predators look like, or even if there are any. Let's assume they're big and bad, even meaner than mega-Wyrms." I stopped to take a breath. "Andy joked about needing artillery--"
"Now, it's no joke !" Geoff spat.
"Quite." I nodded. "Which raises another problem. Although I did a lot of paint-ball, I don't know the first thing about real guns. Anyone ?"
"I've done some shooting..." Alex, our Botanist, broke the nervous silence. "Point 22 for paper targets, clay pigeons with a side-by-side shotgun. But I don't hold a licence."
"Thanks. Any advance on that ?" I looked around the group. They shook their heads. "Okay, Alex, could you look into our options ?"
"The hardware side might be as simple as shotguns with door-knocker rounds, as seen on U-Tube." Alex shrugged. "But there's the UK's paranoid licensing to worry about, not to mention secure storage."
"That sounds expensive," Magda worried.
"It is," Alex warned. "As is ammunition and range time."
"Uh-huh." I nodded. "At least we have four months before the site comes around, eight or twelve before a team goes in. We'll need to know fairly soon if we can do our own security, or if we must widen the net."
"Okay." Alex nodded. "It may take a while. I'll have to do some research, then phone around friends of friends and ask about safari-grade weapons. And, uh, I'll have to do it discreetly. You don't want a SWAT team dropping in..."
"Too right !" I shivered.
"We may have been looked over..." Jenny mentioned.
"Uh ?"
"When the Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council members visited here, a week after our presentation, there was an extra guy..." Precise as ever, Jenny took a careful breath. "But I know we gave our presentation to a full session, because I checked their names and faces on the EPSRC website."
"That was good going," I admitted. "I was so tense both times, I had tunnel vision and the shakes."
"But you held it together..." Jenny grinned. "And they scooted our grant through a fortnight later ! Well, their extra guy never did give his name or credentials."
"I know who you mean !" Pete sat up. "He stayed in the background, spent most of his time eyeing the doors and windows..."
"Yeah ! That's right ! " Alice exclaimed. "He had 'Situational Awareness'-- The way he stood, the way he moved-- He reminded me of my brother-in-law's cousin who's an Captain in the Territorial Army. He'd just finished a tour in Helmand."
"I thought Captains stayed on base..." Geoff muttered.
"He was in harm's way." Alice shrugged. "He wouldn't talk about it, he was still wound real tight..."
"Okay..." I worked through the implications. "That could mean there's a fire-team on standby in case we have a Wyrm escape..."
"That's good to know !" Geoff agreed.
"A shame he didn't leave his card..." Jenny shook her head.
"Plausible deniability, perhaps ?" Pete offered.
"Special Forces ?" Alex supposed. "From what I've heard, they're notoriously shy."
"Okay, we've got the luxury of some lead time," I said. "Let's check out what we can do, and what we would need professionals for. Alex, if you could work your contacts ?"
"Can do."
"Alice, what does your cousin-in-law do off-duty ?"
"Uh, teaching, I think... Yes, physics at his local sixth-form college."
"Could you ask him how we'd go about inviting an Army presence onto an expedition ? If necessary, swear him in and bring him here. There's an NDA form on the server."
"Gotcha." She nodded. "It would show we're trying to be careful."
"Uh-huh." I took a breath. "Also, a reference from him might help open lines to the SAS or whatever our shy guy was."
"I can do that."
"Thank you." I turned. "One other thing... Alex, Steph, will you need a third microscope ?"
They exchanged glances before Steph shook her head and said, "No, our big Olympus does everything we need, and more."
"If that not-quite grass wasn't a mono-culture," Alex shrugged, "we'd be hip-deep in slides and samples. We'd have needed another big 'scope."
"We used the small Olympus for survey, the big one for detail and record," Steph explained. "Workflow worked out just fine."
"What happens if we start hauling in samples from the prairie on Earth-3 ?"
"We've gotten pretty slick," Alex admitted.
"We could handle it," Steph agreed.
"Okay." I hesitated, went on, "If you need any accessories or expensive spares, could you let me know before the end of the week ? I'm afraid I'll have to re-allocate most of the money I'd ear-marked for your third 'scope."
"Okay."
"Understood."
"Thanks, guys..." I sighed, turned to the others. "I know I only asked this morning, but how are you getting on with your searches ?"
Pete hesitated, said, "Google found the one-shot panorama camera George remembered. Big snag, it was all manual controls. There was no easy way to automate it."
"Ah..."
"So we kept looking, found an add-on for any SLR that's threaded for filters."
"That sounds promising !"
"Yeah, it should even fit your Canon 1100d we used to document the dig." Pete shrugged. "Remote control of that is easy, just a small jack-plug with two switches. George ?"
"One auto-focusses, the other shoots." George grinned. "We could gang four or five cameras together."
"The panorama plus front, back, left and right." Alice grinned. "Neat !"
"Sounds like a win ! How's the cost run ?"
"About four hundred, with tax plus shipping from the US," Pete said.
"Okay, order one and play with it." I nodded. "Get a feel for its capability."
"We can test its resolution and linearity down the length of the unit !" Jenny waved. "We should be able to get test charts off the 'net."
"Nice one !" I had a sudden thought. Though I was no expert, my dad's camera bag bulged with lenses and accessories. "Uh, my Canon has the basic 18-55 zoom which came with it; If you need a different lens, just buy it in from Amazon."
"Thanks !"
"Uh-huh... And off-road robots ?"
"We've checked out a bunch," Geoff admitted, "but they're all small, wimpy machines or scratch-builds. Their robot arms are even worse. So, still looking."
"No problem, we've got plenty of lead time."
"Boss, even wimpy ones come in at twenty k. There'll be an arm and comms on top."
"Ouch..." I gulped, gathered myself. "Okay, fair enough, I'll go figure the funding." I stepped back. "Thanks, again, folks."
The first thing I did after slumping into my chair was to check the email. No, there was no update from Helen and Andy. That potential distraction dealt with, I opened up our big, budgeting spreadsheet and began to juggle our options. Even with the third microscope's funding released, and the predicted income from Harry's mini-Wyrm hot-spot, the numbers didn't converge.
Reluctantly, I put finances aside, and began reviewing another of the many papers my team were generating. This one documented a small, centipedal beastie that had come up with a swamp sample. It was unlike anything Terrestrial since our early Cambrian era, but seemed related to my spiny monster in the freezer. I worked my way through the general description, the internal structure, the hollow mandibles with possible venom glands, the book lungs and the bizarre sexual characteristics. Then, I went back to the start and began again.
Two patient passes found neither a word nor figure out of place. Relieved, I sent its file to the growing 'CheckedByDave' directory. After a sigh of relief, I went in search of coffee.
Magda found me standing beside the coffee machine, staring into space while my mug's contents cooled.
"That bad ?"
"Uh-huh..." I nodded slowly. "Sometimes, I wonder why I'm doing this. Sometimes, I wish I'd asked for more money..."
"More money brings more oversight," Magda politely explained. "You'd spend your time doing business plans instead of useful stuff."
"Uh-huh ?"
"Uh-huh." Magda nodded. "Now, I've got a requisition here for an expensive panoramic lens adaptor..."
"No problem, I know about it." Magda walked home for lunch, so had missed part of our hasty gathering. "Hopefully, it will solve the room-mapping." I read the sheet, signed and dated it, adding, "If Pete needs an accessory lens or adaptor for the camera, I told him to get them from Amazon."
"Good. I'll watch out for that."
"Thanks, Magda !" I summoned a smile. After she turned away, I studied my coffee suspiciously. A wary sip determined it was still just warm enough to drink. I downed most of it in a series of gulps, rinsed away the dregs and parked the mug on the drainer.
I didn't want to go back to my office, but I had no choice. I sat, pulled up the next report to review and tried to concentrate on the details. Despite my financial worries, I was soon engrossed. Earth-2 seemed to lack our common earthworm, but there was still a zoo of micro-fauna around the not-quite grass roots. This was 'Number 28' of many, each resembling a woodlouse or pill-bug. As usual, it had the 'wrong' number of segments, some more than others. How Steph and Alice further distinguished this 5mm mini-monster from its kin seemed down to minute differences in the proportions of exoskeleton and feet. I admitted defeat over their arcane assignment, settled for proof-reading the paper and checking its math.
I was just about to send the file onwards, when I heard shouting from across the unit. I hadn't had another e-mail from Helen and Andy, we didn't have a run scheduled on the Big Rig, so I went to investigate. I found everyone gathered around a PC.
"Hi, guys ! What's going on ?"
"Look at this, Dave !" Geoff pointed to the screen, where a tracked robot was going through its paces on the flat before charging up a coarsely grassed 30 degree slope.
I needed a few moments to grasp its scale. "That's... That's easily six feet long !"
"And five feet wide." George clicked to a specifications page. "Snowmobile components. Weight, six hundred pounds. 670 cc Honda engine, 24 HP. Hydrostatic transmission. Speed 15 mph, range 40 miles on one tank. Frequency-hopping radio-control, range about a mile. Twenty Amps of 12 Volt electrical power for accessories. On-board lead-acid battery for load levelling."
"Reckon that would push through the not-quite grass, Boss ?" Geoff asked.
"Uh..." I nodded, peering at the 'Invenscience' logo. "Ah, yes, I guess so..."
"Gets better." George opened a waiting tab. "How about this for a real arm ?"
"Huh ? There's no joint servos !"
"Haven't they gone and used linear servos ?" George was grinning from ear to ear. "It's got a metre and a half reach, can lift five kilos at full stretch."
"Won't integration be a bitch ?"
"Same people." Geoff pointed to a picture of that arm mounted on the bow of the tracked robot. "Voila !"
"Probably uses a second radio-control unit." George explained. "There'd be spare control channels we could use to trigger the logging cameras."
"Sheesh !" I leaned on the work-top before my legs could give way. "Oh, wow..."
"Options include wireless CCTV !" Geoff added gleefully, then stopped. He went quite pale, gasped, "F**ck ! We're so screwed..."
"Uh ? What's wrong ?"
"It's US wireless CCTV ! They don't have our tight power limits..."
"And it would be 60 cycle frame-rate instead of our 50..." George nodded sadly. "Our stuff wouldn't have half the range-- Not the CE Approved stuff, for sure."
"We'd lose the signal through those thick stone walls..."
"Ah..."
"We may be able to get a license." Magda had followed the uproar and heard the problem. "It may be only businesses are allowed to install and use powerful units; Officialdom abhors amateurs."
"That makes sense..." George admitted.
"What about a really big aerial on the robot ?" Pete suggested.
"Not allowed..." Geoff shook his head sadly.
"Or on the receiver by the portal ?" Pete hadn't given up.
"That could work..."
I pointed to the tracked whatsit, now lolloping through a snow-drift. "Could that tow stuff ?"
"Er, yes..." Geoff hastily consulted the specifications. "Yeah, a two-inch receiver, whatever that is, and a 400 pound pull. They mention pulling a sledge..."
"Could you rig a way to drop a tow ?"
They exchanged glances before Geoff shrugged and said, "I don't see why not; It's picking up a tow that's really, really hard."
"So put a second aerial and CCTV receiver on the sledge, have it pay out a drum of cable from the portal."
"So there's a receiver close to the building !" George guffawed. "That's genius !"
"Might need a booster amp to drive the cable run..." Geoff sucked his teeth.
"Build one or buy one." George shrugged. "Not a big problem. It's low frequency circuitry. That won't be expensive."
"Uh, how do we get the sledge and cable back ?" Alice puzzled.
"We wouldn't have time to reel it in," Pete worried.
"We don't." I shrugged. "Once the truck is back in range of the portal's receiver, we shut off the sledge's power and toss the cable end out. Next time around, the long-stay team can house-clean."
"Wicked !" Alice laughed.
"At least we have some options." I took a careful breath, moved into damage mitigation mode. "Find out what is available. We may be able to get a waiver on power because we'll be using it 'out of country'. If necessary, we could use a street-legal, low-powered transmitter for commissioning, un-seal the powerful one off-world. Uh, we'll need some way to test it. Could it be throttled back to legal range ?"
"Not quite a dummy load..." George's expression became distant. "Hmm... Yes, an RF attenuator-- D'uh, I've forgotten the decibels formula !"
"That's a fair fix," admitted Geoff. "For a moment there..."
"We'll definitely need a roll-cage on that thing to mount the cameras." Pete waved. "But isn't it a beaut ?"
"Won't argue with that," I stated, then hesitated. "Is there any indication of cost ?"
"Well, it's in dollars..." Geoff began.
"By the time we pay freight and tax, it will come out as pounds." I took the safely pessimistic approach.
"Twenty k for the base," Geoff blurted to gasps from the team. "And six k for the arm."
It wasn't quite as bad as I'd feared, but it still exceeded my available budget. I didn't have time to mope, because Alice spoke up, asking, "Why do we need the arm ?"
"Water sampling." I cut short any speculation. "We need a bottle of river water--"
"There could be anything from lead to arsenic in the head-waters." Alex nodded. "Long-stay team need to know it's safe, that there's no accumulative toxins."
"To be sure, to be sure." Steph nodded, too. "We'd also need to check organic carbon and microbial load. Filter it for swimmers."
"Would that take more than a litre or so ?" I wondered.
"I'd have to ask around..." Steph hesitated. "But it's the sort of work you'd want in triplicate. So, yes. A gallon, at least. More would be better. Lots more."
"That's too much for the arm..." Geoff looked ready to cry.
"Why juggle a wobbly bottle ?" I wondered. "How about a water pump ?"
"Screened inlet, self-priming, with a hose to a tank on the deck !" George rocked in his seat. "We can do that !"
"Yeah !" Alice cheered.
"Okay, guys, consider this truck and arm short-listed," I said. "Can you hunt out the details we discussed ? Plus anything else you can think of ?"
"On it !"
"Sure thing !"
"Go, go, Google !"
I left them to it and ambled back to my office, deep in thought. The first thing I did was to send that checked report onward. Then, I opened up the big spreadsheet again and tried to make ends meet. Half an hour later, I was reduced to shaking my head. Yes, I'd gained ten k by ditching the third microscope. Yes, I could expect a few more mini-Wyrms to show up. Yes, I could squeeze a tithe from our consumables. Yes, I could tap my contingency and discretionary funds. Yes, I was being pessimistic about the exchange rate. All that, and I was still five k short...
I hauled myself from the chair, headed for the coffee machine, still thinking. I could probably brace Uncle Jim for a couple of thousand-- Heavens ! That was barely half a mini-Wyrm ! But, no. He'd exact a stiff price somehow...
Then, a Plan_B came to me. I only needed a moment to figure the math. Forgetting my coffee, I changed course, walked across the unit to Magda's tidy desk. "Hi, have you started on the payroll yet ?"
"No, next Monday morning, bright and early."
"What would it take to cut my pay by half ?"
"Uh ? You're serious ?"
"I can't make enough savings any other way."
"Two minutes."
"Do it."
"Okay." Magda nodded slowly. "But can you manage ?"
"I've paid off a huge tranche of my student loan. I've cleared my plastic. I've actually got a fair balance in my current account. I'm not buying a car or anything..."
"Dave, you've put so much into this Project--"
"So, I'll put a little more."
"Okay." Magda put her hands flat on the desk. "The other option would be to fire some-one, but they're all friends..."
"I know." I sighed. "This way is better."
"I'm sorry..."
I headed back to my office to run my new figures. I was just crossing the door's threshold when the e-mail pinged. I spun to my seat, peered at the sender. Was it Helen ? Yes ! I opened the mail, read the few words.
'One variety land predator sighted from Helsby Hill-- Count legs twice.'
I furrowed my brow, opened the attached movie. The vast herd had moved miles clear of the ford's pinch-point, spread out again. Suddenly, three, no, four sleeker shapes arrowed through the not-quite grass, converging on a flanker. They drove horned heads under their victim's armoured skirt. They lifted in unison, capsizing the huge animal. With its softer underbelly exposed, the four predators began to rip and tear at the flesh...
Bile rose in my throat.
Then, I froze the replay, zoomed the view.
Count the legs twice, she'd said. I did. I took a careful breath, zoomed the view until it almost pixelated, looked again. I shook my head. There was no doubt, now. There could be no doubt that Earth-2 was truly 'alien'.
I shivered, forwarded the e-mail and movie to the server. Then I stood and walked to the door, called, "Guys ! New movie from Helen !" Words failed me for a moment. I went on, "Count the legs !"
As one, the team abandoned their searches to study the footage. Pete was first to respond, with, "Those predators are as big as rhinos !"
"They're armoured like their prey, just leaner." Alice gauged. "Co-operative hunting strategy ?"
The team gasped as the huge herbivore toppled and the first gore flew. Suddenly, Steph demonstrated her sharp reflexes by hitting the pause. "Am I seeing things ?"
It took a few moments for the others to reach the same conclusion, which Alice voiced, "That's got six legs !"
