Steph Bennion - Paw-Prints of the Gods

Xuthus and fellow student Urania were working in dome three, where a series of shallow trenches had uncovered a right-angled stretch of wall and a number of fossilised tree stumps in regular rows. Urania knelt a few metres away, engrossed in cleaning one of the black stumps near the wall. She was an attractive dark-haired woman who wore her long hair in a loose ponytail and her overalls tightly belted. Like Xuthus, Urania had started her archaeology studies that year, though was five years older. Her parents, aerospace workers from Rio de Janeiro, were struggling to find regular work in Newbrum and Urania juggled several part-time jobs to fund her dream of becoming an archaeologist. In contrast, Xuthus and Hestia came from wealthy, middle-class American families who owed their good fortune to the Que Qiao pharmaceutical companies in Bradbury Heights.

“Had enough?” Urania asked, glancing up from her own task.

Xuthus grinned, captivated as always by her smile and lilting Brazilian accent.

“This is boring,” he said. “I want alien bones, long-lost treasure!”

“You’ve been watching too many holovids,” said Urania and gave a little laugh. “Most archaeology is back-breaking and tedious, especially when you get someone like Aberystwyth Jones who doesn’t trust automatic excavators.”

“Why do you call him that?” Xuthus asked irritably. Doctor Jones had chastised him for using his nickname, but annoyingly still allowed the girls to do so.

“He’s from Aberystwyth,” said Urania. “It’s a joke! You must have seen the movies. Indiana Jones and the Golden Fleece of Sirius was on Ascension Freeview last month.”

“Aberystwyth Jones,” muttered Xuthus. “Hilarious.”

“Here’s the man himself,” she added, pointing over Xuthus’ shoulder.

Doctor Jones, Professor Cadmus and the ungainly figure of Hestia had just entered dome three. The tunnel-like walkway to the west led to dome one, which contained a pair of habitation cabins, another series of short trenches and an airlock leading south into the small hangar containing the life-support plant and the expedition’s transport vehicle. Dome two was to the north of dome one and it was here that the mysterious inscribed arch and star chamber had been found. Xuthus could not help feeling jealous that it was Hestia and not himself whom Govannon had asked when looking for an extra pair of hands.

“Aberystwyth!” called Urania. She raised her trowel in a mock salute.

Govannon waved back. Xuthus perked up at the prospect of a break from the hot, sweaty conditions and a tedious morning’s archaeology in the trench. Today marked the end of week six of their ten-week expedition and the day they got to leave the dome for their fortnightly trip to meet the ship. The excursion was a welcome change of scenery, while having fresh food and a proper shower in a cool air-conditioned spacecraft was a rare luxury between each two-week spell under the domes. What he was looking forward to most was the chance to speak to his mother and father back on Ascension. The expedition’s tiny fusion power plant was not up to supporting an ED transmitter on site and so there was a general rush to use the one aboard the ship whenever it was on Falsafah.

Professor Cadmus, Doctor Jones and Hestia arrived at where Xuthus and Urania were busy in the trench. Hestia made straight for Xuthus’ area and greeted him with the smile of a best friend, which annoyed him no end. She had acted this way ever since Christmas, when his family had joined hers at their ski resort cabin in Kirchel, where an unfortunate series of events led to Hestia saving him from being eaten by a mad mechanical wolf. In his eyes, being rescued by a girl was embarrassing, which did not make them friends.

Urania, having glanced at the time display on her wristpad, took their arrival as a cue to stop work and climbed to her feet, trowel in one hand and kneeling mat in the other. As the academics walked slowly along the edge of the shallow pit, Xuthus noted that while Doctor Jones appeared genuinely excited by the work he and Urania had done in the trench, Professor Cadmus seemed almost bored. Govannon paused above the fossilised tree stumps and gazed along the neat row Urania had uncovered. Each jagged stub was half a metre wide and some had visible growth rings.

“Good work!” he declared. “That’s incredible evidence of climate change, see. It puts me in mind of the fossilised forests found in Antarctica after the thaw.”

“I suspect the plantation had ritual significance,” remarked Cadmus. It was a stock explanation much beloved of archaeologists when confronted with a mystery. “The stumps appear to be arranged in a very regular pattern.”

“Coincidence!” snapped Govannon.

“Perhaps trees on Falsafah were just better behaved,” said Urania, giving Govannon a sly wink. “Born with a natural instinct to stand in queues, like you English.”

“I’m Welsh!”

“What about the wall?” asked Xuthus, feeling his own hard work was being unfairly overlooked. “If it was an orchard, perhaps the wall was to keep people out.”

“People, is it?” Govannon frowned. “Mesolithic humans in Tau Ceti?”

“I meant aliens,” murmured Xuthus.

“Aliens!”

“Greys?” offered Urania.

“It seems the logical explanation,” said Cadmus.

“Perhaps this is where Neanderthals disappeared to,” Hestia solemnly quipped.

Xuthus scowled, embarrassed by her attempt at a joke, though no one else appeared to be listening. Govannon turned away, muttering obscenities under his breath. Seeing Urania grab one of the wheelbarrows and head for the exit ramp, Xuthus picked up his own bucket and headed after her. By the time he and Urania returned from the spoil heap, Govannon was walking back towards the tunnel to dome one, taking his grumbles with him.

“Curious man,” mused Cadmus. “Fallen off the boat to Thebes, that one.”

“Sorry?” asked Urania.

The professor gave a weak smile. “He’s in denial.”

The transport parked in the hangar had been loaned to the expedition by the Que Qiao maintenance crew who occasionally visited Arallu Depot, the nearest supply base to the excavation. The six-wheeled vehicle was of the type commonly used on airless worlds throughout the five systems, though this one was more battered than most. The whole hangar had to be depressurised before the main doors could be opened, which did put a strain upon the life-support plant that maintained a breathable atmosphere throughout the complex. For this reason, trips outside were a rare and special treat.

“I’m not coming with you,” announced Professor Cadmus, arriving late at the hangar. “I’ve noticed an error in the site report that needs to be corrected before it goes.”

“We can wait,” said Govannon.

Behind him, Xuthus paused in the midst of lugging the last of the empty water barrels across the hangar, perturbed by the men’s conversation. Hestia and Urania were out of earshot, busy with the job of linking the toilet and waste disposal trailer onto the back of the transport. The torrid heat and lack of air circulation fans within the metal-roofed hangar was not helping the mobile toilet unit smell any better.

“That’s hardly fair on the students,” said Cadmus. “The ship is on Falsafah for just a few hours and you know they look forward to a bit of time away from the site. I can get the update to you via the short-range transmitter before it leaves.”

“Don’t you want to speak to your bosses yourself? Give an oral report?”

“I confess I’m feeling a little under the weather.” As if to illustrate his point, Cadmus gave a brief grimace, clutching his stomach as he did so. “A mild touch of food poisoning, I fear. It’s my own fault for eating that rather ripe cheese last night.”