Of Ants and Dinosaurs

12 The Medical Team

The day after the destruction of the Ivory Citadel, Supreme Consul Kachika of the Ant Federation led a team of doctors to Boulder City and requested an audience with Emperor Dadaeus.

‘The Ant Federation has been deeply humbled by the Gondwanan Empire’s tremendous show of power,’ Kachika said meekly.

Dadaeus was immensely gratified by this display of unequivocal submission. ‘Well then, Kachika!’ he boomed. ‘Finally some sense out of you.’ He patted his humongous belly in absent-minded contentment. ‘This is not the first time dinosaurs and ants have gone to war, but you ants no longer have the capacity you once enjoyed. You cannot start fires in our cities and forests any more, as the fire alarms and automatic sprinkler-systems we have installed will immediately extinguish any flame larger than a cigarette butt. As for that barbaric tactic of sneaking into dinosaurs’ nostrils…’ He snorted derisively, unconsciously clearing his own nasal passages in the process. ‘Even during the First Dinosaur–Ant War we had ways of putting a stop to that. It’s an irritant, nothing more.’

‘Just so, Your Majesty,’ Kachika replied politely, keeping a cautious eye out for any imperial snot that might be jetting her way. ‘The purpose of my visit is to request that the Gondwanan Empire immediately suspend all attacks against other cities in the Ant Federation. We will call off the strike and resume our labours throughout the empire. The Ant Federation has made the same pledge to the Laurasian Republic. Right now, on every continent, tens of billions of ants are returning to dinosaur cities.’

Dadaeus nodded repeatedly in approval. ‘This is all as it should be. The disintegration of the dinosaur–ant alliance would be disastrous for both our worlds. At least this incident has shown you ants once and for all who really rules the Earth!’

Kachika dipped her antennae. ‘It was a vivid lesson indeed. And as an expression of the Ant Federation’s sincere respect for Earth’s rulers, I have brought with me our most distinguished medical team to attend to Your Majesty’s eye.’

Dadaeus was very pleased. His eye injury had been troubling him for the past two days, but all his dinosaur surgeons had been able to do was prescribe him yet more antibiotics.

The ant medical team set to work straight away. Some of them operated on the outer surface of the emperor’s eyeball, while the rest passed through his nostrils to focus on the back of the eye.

‘Your Majesty, the first stage of the operation entails removing the dead and infected tissue from your eyeball and administering an injection,’ Kachika explained. ‘We will then repair the wound with the latest therapeutic agent – living tissue cultivated through bioengineering. It will completely heal your eyeball, leaving your vision and the appearance of your eye unaffected.’

Two hours later, the operation was done. Kachika and the ant medical team departed.

Interior Minister Babat and Health Minister Dr Vivek entered the emperor’s chamber as soon as the ants had gone. They were followed by several dinosaurs pushing a large, complicated-looking machine. The health minister explained. ‘Your Majesty, this is a high-precision three-dimensional scanner.’

‘What do you plan to do with it?’ asked Dadaeus, his left eye swathed in bandages, his right eye narrowed in suspicion.

‘For Your Majesty’s safety, we need to perform a full scan of your head,’ the interior minister said solemnly.

‘Is this really necessary?’

‘It’s best to be cautious when dealing with those devious little insects.’

The minister invited Dadaeus to step up onto the machine’s small platform. Once he was in position, a thin beam of light began passing slowly over his head. It was a lengthy procedure. ‘You’re being ridiculously paranoid,’ Dadaeus said irritably. ‘The ants wouldn’t dare lay a feeler on me. If they were found out, the imperial army would demolish all of their cities within three days. The ants may be devious, but they are also the most rational of insects. They’re like computers: logic and precision are everything to them; there’s no room for the sort of emotion that might spur them into trying to get even.’

The scan revealed no abnormalities in Dadaeus’s skull. Meanwhile, a report came in confirming that ants were pouring back into dinosaur cities. Normalcy was quickly being restored.

‘I’m still not convinced, Your Majesty. I know what the ants are like,’ the interior minister muttered to the emperor in a low voice.

Dadaeus smiled at him benignly. ‘Your vigilance is commendable, and you should remain watchful, but take it from me, old chap, we have bested them!’

The health minister would not be diverted. ‘From now on,’ he said, ‘all high-ranking officials, leading scientists and key personnel must undergo regular scans like this. With Your Majesty’s approval, of course,’ he added hastily.

‘Very well, you have my approval. But I still think you’re being unduly anxious.’

Unbeknown to Dadaeus, however, on the previous day, twenty ants had lain hidden in the imperial infirmary. When night fell, they had infiltrated the infirmary’s six scanners and destroyed a particular microchip in each of them – microchips that were too small for the dinosaurs to see. After the damage was done, the scanners operated normally but with a 20 per cent loss of accuracy. It was this reduction in accuracy that caused the scanner to miss something in Dadaeus’s skull – a tiny object, just one-tenth of the size of a grain of rice, covertly planted by the surgical team on the emperor’s cerebral artery. The tiny object was a timed mine-grain. 1,000 years earlier, in the First Dinosaur–Ant War, ant soldiers had bitten through the same artery in the brain of Major General Ixta (he of the charming ‘pissing on your toy sandpit of a city’ quote) just before he haemorrhaged to death on the battlefield outside the Ivory Citadel.

The mine-grain had been set to detonate in 660 hours. In those days, Earth rotated faster than it does today, and there were only twenty-two hours in a day, which meant that in exactly one month, the mine-grain in the emperor’s brain would explode.