When Fossils Meet Read online

  When Fossils Meet:

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  The Perils of Funding Cuts

  Alma T.C. Boykin

  A Cat Among Dragons Story

  © 2012 All Right Reserved

  For the first and last time, C-SPAN’s rerun ratings exceeded those of all other cable and broadcast stations. It was also the last time C-SPAN broadcast a congressional hearing without a five-second delay.

  Senator Hiram Heisluft, chairman of the Senate Select Committee on the Environment, senior senator from Wisconsin, former governor, and senate majority whip, frowned as he entered the hearing room. The usual group of unkempt protesters pushed and milled, attempting to “persuade” earlier arrivals to give up their seats. “Jerry,” the senator called to his chief aid.

  “Yes, Senator?”

  “Go tell them to behave. They are not helping their cause.”

  Jerry nodded, lips compressed. “Yes, sir.” A minute or two later the commotion died down as most of the protestors, having made their presence known, returned to the public waiting area. Four of their number, already seated, remained behind as official observers.

  The temperature climbed as the room filled and several members of the audience began fanning and loosening their collars. Senator Heisluft smiled to himself. He always had the air conditioning adjusted for these final hearings in order to emphasize the seriousness of the subject. Heisluft glanced behind him and caught an angry glare from Senator Antonia Guajilla. The brightly dressed Texan did not care for either Heisluft’s tactics or his policies and did not bother hiding her feelings. Heisluft turned back to his notes with a shrug. Antonia “Gaudy” Guajilla’s opinion mattered not one whit: he was the majority whip and her senior. Heisluft noted the time and signaled for the doors to be closed.

  Bang, bang, bang! Heisluft pounded the desk with his gavel. “I call this meeting of the Senate Select Committee on the Environment to order.” Once the whispers quieted down, he continued, “this will be the final day of testimony on the question of anthropogenic global warming and what actions, if any, need to be taken in by this government.”

  A few minutes into Energy Secretary Robert Bowersox’s opening testimony, the back door opened and a security guard leaned in, handed Andrew O’Neil of North Dakota a message, and slipped out again. O’Neil passed the note forward to the chairman. “Due to a possible security breach, the capitol is locked down until the security sweeps are concluded,” Hiram read. He tucked the message away and shrugged. It happened almost every week. Last time, someone had propped a door open while unloading plumbing fixtures for the new women’s bathroom. Heisluft turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

  “Are there any further questions for Sec. Bowersox? No? Thank you, Secretary. The committee now calls Dr. Anna Menscham. Dr. Menscham, please come forward.”

  The audience rustled as the federal expert on climate change approached the stand. She owed Hiram her career, especially now, after people had begun raising questions about the ice-core samples she’d used for her award-winning paper on anthropogenic global warming. Not that anyone else in the room knew about that. Senator Heisluft had made certain of her and her associates’ silence in exchange for his support for their broader agenda. Hiram glanced down at the list of questions he’d planned to permit as he waited for Menscham to reach the front table.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

  The greying blond nodded, her calloused right hand steady. “I do.”

  “For the record, state your name and your current position.”

  She adjusted the microphone slightly. “My name is Anna Menscham and I am the head of historical climatology at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.”

  Heisluft checked the question off of his electronic list. “Thank you, Dr. Menscham. I understand that you have an opening statement for the committee?”

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman.”

  “Please read your statement.”

  He’d heard it all before, but Heisluft pretended to pay close attention to the description of the woes that increasing temperature would inflict on the world. Menscham spoke well, much better than most science and policy people, and Heisluft could tell that the audience could follow her arguments with ease. If not all enjoyed the speech, they still appreciated Menscham’s skill with words.

  Dr. Menscham turned the page over. “In short, Chairman Heisluft, members of the committee, the scientific evidence for anthropogenic global warming has been proven four times over. If remedial action begins within the next four months, it will only require twenty percent of the country’s GDP over the next ten years in order to slow, and possibly stop, the process. If we wait any longer, disaster is inevitable.”

  Senator Heisluft could hear several committee members muttering under their breaths, and Senator Guajilla’s disgusted snort spoke volumes. Well, she was a petroleum geologist, not a climatologist, and Heisluft could ignore her objections. He opened his mouth to ask the next question when a commotion outside the room almost drowned him out.

  The people in the hearing chamber heard yells, shrieks like laughter, and several pairs of feet running past the main door. A muted wheezy roar interrupted the other sounds, followed by a bang, and more running noises, and laughter.

  Heisluft pulled off his reading glasses and pointed his gavel at the guard beside the door. “Tell whoever is being foolish to stop it at once!”

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman,” and the capitol police officer hauled the door open. “You! Stop that at oh shit! Oh,” and a roar drowned out the man’s voice. Heisluft stared as the policeman backed up, reaching for the pistol he could not carry in the hearing chamber. A large green and yellow striped head, almost as big as the man’s torso, appeared in the doorway, followed by broad shoulders.

  “Graaaawwwwrrr?” A wave of rotting meat stench flowed through the hearing chamber and Sec. Bowersox turned green. Dr. Menscham clamped a hand over her nose and mouth as she scrambled out of the creature’s way. Heisluft got to his feet, staring at the scaly beast with the atrocious breath. “Graaawwwrrr!”

  The audience screamed and panicked, trying to flee from the sharp-toothed, red-splashed lizard. Heisluft froze, slack-jawed, amazed by the thing’s intricate stripes. The senator had just enough time to see a second, smaller lizard before the first creature bounded forward, jaws wide open.

  Three hours later, a phone rang in Austin, Texas. “Crandall here,” the governor answered.

  “Reg, I, well, I don’t know quite how to tell you this,” Senator Mitch Washington started. Reg Crandall heard fear in the other man’s voice and he sat forward, reaching for a pencil and paper to take notes. “Reg, Antonia Guajilla is dead. You’re going to have to appoint her replacement.”

  “Sweet Jesus have mercy, what happened?” Crandall motioned to his chief of staff to pick up the second phone. Terri Chin did as asked.

  “I, Reg, something ate her!”

  Governor Crandall and Terri Chin exchanged worried looks: had Mitch gone crazy? Crandall scribbled, “turn on the TV feed” as he told the distraught senator, “Take a deep breath, Mitch. Now, what happened exactly?”

  “Lord turn me purple if I’m lyin’, Reg. Two giant lizards broke into the senate hearing-chamber and killed a whole bunch of people before they left the room.” He took a shaky breath. “The capitol police and some of the Marines managed to kill the things when they got out of the building and into the street, Reg. I saw the bodies: two big lizards, all over with people’s blood. You gotta’ appoint someone right now, Reg.”

  Crandall did his best to soothe the panicked politician at the other end of the line. “I’ll do what I can, Mitch, as soon as Guajilla’s death is confirmed.” After a few
more words, Crandall persuaded Mitch Washington to release the line. The phone barely touched the cradle before it rang again. “Crandall.”

  “Reg? It’s Larry.” That would be Governor Larry Andersen of North Dakota.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “You heard anything from D.C. about something screwy happening in the Senate?”

  Reg frowned as Terri found C-SPAN and muted the channel. “Actually, I just got a call claiming that Antonia Guajilla has died. Why?”

  “Because I’m a senator short, too. Apparently there was a massacre in the Senate environment hearing. Got Heisluft, Guajilla, Sanders of Arizona, Di Palermo of New Jersey, that weird one, ah, Smith from Florida, and Mancuso from Illinois is pretty badly torn up.”

  Crandall saw the pictures on the TV and gulped. “Turn your office TV on to C-SPAN if you get it, Larry.”

  After a long pause, Andersen also gulped. “What the hell is a dead allosaurus doing on Pennsylvania Avenue?”

  “Governor Andersen, this is Terri Chin. How do you know what it is?”

  Crandall had to smile at the reply. “Because I have a ten year old, a six year old, and a four year old, Terri. I know my dinosaurs.”

  “Well, I can’t appoint anyone until someone confirms that Antonia Guajilla is, indeed, dead.” Crandall could not afford anything like the last year’s furor in Connecticut, when a supposedly dead congressman returned to life. “And there are still hard feelings over that redistricting suit.”

  “You are preaching to the choir, Reg.” Crandall heard someone speaking in the background and Andersen’s muffled, “yes, I heard, Lars. Tell him I’ll be there in two minutes.” A little louder Andersen apologized, “Sorry, Reg, a school group just arrived and I need to go. My best to Gretchen.”

  “Thanks. I‘ll let you know if I learn anything more,” the Texan promised.

  Two days later, Reginald Andrew Crandall appointed Joan Espinosa to fill the recently vacated seat of Antonia Guajilla. After he’d hung up from the last phone call, and after Terri made certain that no one else lurked within earshot of the governor’s office, Crandall began laughing. Hysteria, exhaustion, and black humor sent him into gales of laughter until tears ran down his face and he had to gasp for breath. “Oh, shit, Gaudy Guajilla will never forgive me,” he managed at last. “But damn, that’s funny.”

  Terri just shook her head and re-read the official death certificate, and the addendum. “Cause of death: blood loss and heart failure stemming from trauma. Note: an examination of reptilian fecal material confirmed that Antonia Guajilla was killed by the larger of the two reptiles.” Only in D.C., Terri thought. Only in D.C. would the coroner not be able to confirm a death without determining that the “device” suspected of killing the individual really was involved. She shook her head. “You know, sir, this makes some of the reports in the Austin paper look normal.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Crandall wiped his face with a red handkerchief. “I wonder if we’ll ever know just how two dinosaurs got into the capitol and who turned them loose?”

  Two weeks after the initial incident, the woman known to the humans as Commander Rachel Na Gael returned to Nottinghamshire, England, from her annual summer leave. Rachel changed into her “uniform,” checked in with Captain John Marsh to confirm that she was officially on duty, and barely got three steps from the personnel officer’s office door before Capt. Maria de Alba found her. “Commander! You need to look at this. Dinosaurs attacked the US Senate!”

  The xenologist leaned on her walking cane, tipped her head to the side, and studied the communications officer. “Dinosaurs attacked the US Senate.”

  “Yes, and the North American branch has no idea how they got there or, who brought them,” Maria waved a handful of papers. “You need to look at the videos and reports, ma’am. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Rachel shrugged and followed Capt. De Alba to the communication suite. They found Col. Tadeus Przilas waiting for them. “Good. Welcome back, Commander. There are some videos from the United States you need to analyze. Maria, please route the projection to the staff briefing room. This way, Commander.”

  And so a very bemused one-eyed brunette limped back the way she had come, to the staff officers’ briefing and meeting room. The American officer took the commanding officer’s seat and waved Commander Na Gael into his usual place. “You can see better from here.” Przilas dimmed the lights and started the first video feed.

  “Well, yes, I’d say that those are indeed dinosaurs and yes, they certainly did not react well to being in a confined space with terrified mammals,” the Commander said after watching the C-SPAN footage. Col. Przilas gave his advisor a stern look. She explained, “Sir, they are predators, apparently unused to being confined, and they lashed out. They may have been hungry, too. Nothing unusual about that, sir, aside from what two Cretaceous Era, I think, perhaps Jurassic? Anyway, what two extinct reptiles were doing in the US capitol.”

  “That is exactly what the North American Branch wants to know. The only thing that their xenologist, Dr. Larry Kennecott, found was this. It is external security camera footage from this loading area,” and Przilas called up a map of the capitol building and circled the area in question. “The staff were removing some of the statues from the rotunda for regular cleaning and to repair some worn flooring, and had propped the doors open.”

  This time Rachel paid very close attention, taking notes on her electronic pad as the loading area emptied of human activity. A pale, spinning shape suddenly appeared and grew darker, filling the loading dock and extending out of the range of the camera. Something on the shape stopped moving and opened. Two dinosaurs trotted out of the shape. One reptile stood taller than the other but both belonged to the same species, with similar bright green and yellow markings and equally large teeth and talons. A person appeared on the loading dock, waved his arms and fled into the building, pursued by the dinosaurs. At the same time, the “pod” on the ship began spinning again, matched the rotation of the main body, and the entire shape grew pale and vanished.

  “Can you back up the film and stop it at,” Rachel glanced down at her notes, “at forty five seconds, please?”

  As Tadeus did, the meeting room door opened and Brigadier General James McKendrick walked in. “Remain as you are,” the Scotsman ordered, pulling a chair around to sit next to the xenologist. “Continue.”

  Rachel watched the video again. “Slow it, please. Stop! Yes, that’s it. It’s a Rowfow time ship.” She leaned back in her chair. “They acquired temporal science after the Wanderers did, sir. Use a different technology set.”

  “Is this a hostile act?” Przilas demanded.

  Rachel rubbed under her blind right eye as she thought. “No, sir,” she began, hesitating. “I do not believe that.” She stopped, frowned a little and shook her head, saying to herself, “No, surly not.” As Przilas and McKendrick watched with growing concern, Rachel pulled an electronic data link out of her satchel and tapped the screen with her stylus. She muttered to herself as she scrolled through the information on the palm-sized screen. “Oh. Oh my. It is!” A huge smile bloomed on her face and she began laughing!

  “Commander! This is not funny!” Brigadier McKendrick reminded her. “At least fifteen people are dead and more are injured or severely traumatized because of this incident.” The redhead’s face darkened with anger.

  “Yes, sir,” Rachel managed to gasp. “I know sir. But, well, I’ve always wondered what the rest of the story was.”

  Tadeus glared at her, furious. “What do you mean, the rest of the story? You knew about this?”

  “No, sir, I knew about the other end of the story, because the apprentice-master of da Kavalle used it to explain why the tarqi never accepted this type of contract without full payment in advance. If this is the same incident, which I wager it is.”

  “Explain, Commander,” the American demanded.

  Rachel took a deep breath and wiped away a tear of laughter. “A un
iversity group on Hellar’s World got funds for research into the early life forms of Ter-tri, as they call this planet. They commissioned some Rowfow to collect six large reptiles, the sort you call dinosaurs. This the Rowfow did, and it took a goodly amount of labor and time, as you might imagine. Well, the Rowfow were on their way back with the reptiles when they got word that the academics’ funding had been cut and now the university would only pay for four reptiles. The Rowfow released two of the reptiles back on Ter-tri, collected the money for the rest and had to write the other costs off. Tarqi da Kavalle’s Elders’ Council decided that rather than risk having the same thing happen, they’d only take cash up front, full amount, for specimen collections.”

  The two humans looked at the image on the screen, at their xenologist, and at each other. “So what you are saying is that the Rowfow just dumped the reptiles without bothering to see what and who was around?” Przilas sounded incredulous, his eyes wide.

  “Well, they probably left them in the same geographic location where they found them, allowing for continental drift, I suspect,” Rachel replied, trying to hide a grin.

  “But it was not an attack,” McKendrick rumbled.

  “No, sir. Just some peeved businessmen trying to cut their losses.” As she watched, the corner of McKendrick’s mouth twitched ever so slightly.

  McKendrick nodded abruptly and stood up. “Very well. Pass your report to the North Americans, minus the other part of the story, please.”

  After McKendrick left, Przilas followed, reminding his advisor, “it is not funny, Commander Na Gael.”

  Expression grave, she agreed. “No sir, not in the least.” The American stalked out of the room, leaving Rachel to shut down the equipment. She waited until the door closed behind him and grinned. “GrrrraaAAAARRRrrrr, sir.”

 

 

  Alma Boykin, When Fossils Meet

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