That evening, they found a low-lying area where their camp fire wouldn't be seen from any great distance. Above the fire, they roasted a gooth on a spit made from their spears tied together with strips of hide cut from the mid-sized herbivore.
As droplets of fat fell sizzling into the flames, Tarvos looked at the Storyteller again. The number that told them how much stored sunlight it had left had said seven at around midday, and it still said seven now despite his having held it in the sun for several more hours after leaving the rexes. Tarvos suspected that it had once been able to rise higher but that the device was damaged, or perhaps just old and suffering from neglect. He decided that it didn't matter. Seven was plenty for it to read out several more entries from the journal, and when it ran out of stored sunlight it would soak up some more as they walked the next day.
As the others gathered around the fire, therefore, Tarvos brought the device to life again, selected the next entry and told the device to read it aloud.
7.15pm April 5th Janus year 4
The long summer is about to come to an end. Caelus, the planet whose orbit is so close to that of Janus, is looming large in the sky, a visible disk rather than just a star-like point. As Janus approaches, the gravity of Caelus is pulling it forward, speeding it up in its orbit. That will move us into a higher orbit, further from the sun, and the long winter will begin. Being in a higher orbit of course means that we will be moving slower in our orbit around the sun, so that Caelus will leave us behind.
The other planet, five times as massive as Janus, will shrink and disappear in the sky, becoming just one more star again until it laps us and approaches us from behind. Then its gravity will pull Janus back, slowing this planet and dropping it back down into a lower orbit. There are two moons of Saturn that do the same thing, although on a smaller scale, and this planet is named after one of them. Janus and Caelus have been performing this elegant dance for billions of years, resulting in a planet that, although its year is just eight Earth months long, has summers and winters that are thirty two Earth years long.
The days are already noticeably cooler, and the biosphere is beginning to respond. Some animals are migrating south, but even on the equator temperatures will only be temperate instead of the tropical heat we've been enjoying so far. Other animals are preparing for hibernation. We estimate that the poles, currently temperate, will be covered with ice sheets as far as sixty degrees from the equator. Sea levels will drop and ocean currents will change, resulting in new weather patterns that even our best computer models probably won't be able to reliably predict.
The biologists are brimming over with excitement at the prospect of watching the change take place. The centre of the continent will dry out, they say, and the great jungles will be replaced by something hardier. Nowhere on the continent have we seen a plant that's older than thirty two years. It seems that everything just dies and is replaced by a new range of flora that has been waiting as seeds or tubers in the soil. Everything is herbaceous. There are no woody plants. Janice estimates that the changeover might be complete in as little as two Janus years, and then this will be completely new planet. Even the unmanned probes didn't see the second face of Janus, as the long summer that is now coming to an end had already started when they arrived in this system twenty five years ago.
"He's talking about Caelus," said Geirrod excitedly. "The Lord of Change. What was all that about orbits and stuff?"
"No idea," Tarvos admitted. "They use strange words whose meaning was lost when they died, it seems. Maybe someone wiser than us will be able to make sense of it when we get it back to the tribe."
"Never mind that now, though," said Daphnis. "Play the next bit."
Tarvos nodded and did so.
8.05pm April 15th Janus year 4
The heffalumps have gone, and we don't know where. Carol had placed tracking devices on several of them and we have some lovely maps showing their day-to-day movements, but one day they all stopped transmitting. Carol speculates that the creatures may have molted, shedding their skins and the tracking devices with them, but when we took a rover to the places from where we received the last signals there was nothing to be found. Maybe scavengers ate the shed skins, destroying the tracking devices in the process, or maybe there's something else going on we haven't figured out yet.
Other animals are changing. The hammerhorns, previously bare skinned, are growing great shaggy coats of hair. I guess that means they're going to stay put and spend the winter here. Others are growing larger as they put on thick layers of blubber. We're going to have to think of a new name for the agile, fast moving lankyflanks. Chonkyflanks maybe.
We're finding vast numbers of small, dead animals. We're assuming they've left eggs behind in some we'll protected place which will hatch out in spring. This raises the possibility that there may be animals that are only active in winter and that wait out the long summers as eggs buried deep underground. The other biologists are almost climbing the walls in their eagerness to see them.
There's sadness too, though. The jungles are dying, turning brown and rotting away. It's sad to see, but we're being treated to a spectacular fungal display as they spread colourful fruiting bodies to release their spores into the air. The jungle is going to be replaced by a brief fungus forest, it seems, before they disappear in turn to be replaced by something that can endure frosty nights and the occasional snowfall.
All in all, we're all rushed off our feet documenting an event that will not be repeated in our lifetimes. Not even the most optimistic of us think that any of us will still be around when the next summer ends, and so we...
Contents of journal corrupted.
Tarvos Grunted with irritation and tried several more entries until he found one that would play.
...the worst snowfall yet. Nearly thirty centimetres deep all around the habitat. It's brought the shoveltusks right up close to us, scraping the snow from the ground with their massively modified teeth to reach the grass beneath. We're in the middle of the cold season, when the planer's axial tilt makes the long winter even colder, but even so the depth of the freeze we're experiencing took us all by surprise. Fortunately, the eight-month year means that we only have to put up with this for a few more weeks before the planet's axial tilt takes away the worst of the bitter weather and we'll have nothing worse than the occasional frosty morning until the next cold season comes.
At least the majority of us are safe in the habitat, which is warm and cosy no matter what it's doing outside. Tom and Sam are trapped in Oceanside with the Sirocco unable to fly in these icy conditions. I was always doubtful about the wisdom of putting an outpost so far away, but I suppose Tom was right. We do have a whole planet to explore, after all. The folks back home won't be happy if, after all the expense of sending this expedition, we only explore the centre of the largest continent.
Oceanside is very much on our minds for another reason; the sea is receding as the ice caps grow at the poles. Sam says the shoreline is now fifty kilometres away and that they now have a day's drive in their rover whenever they want to study the shore creatures. They're still not getting their manned submarine, though. The submersible drones are perfectly adequate for studying the deep ocean creatures.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"Submersible," said Fornjot, looking at each of the others in turn as if hoping they would be able to explain the strange word. Tarvos just shrugged, though, and played the next entry.
2.55pm January 3rd Janus year 10
Very sadly, I have to report the deaths of Christer Fugelsang, our best Pilot, and Sebastian De Berkeley, a biologist, who were killed when their aircraft, Bluewing, crashed on the way back from Helium outpost in the mountains. We're not sure what happened yet. Ice on the wings maybe, despite all the precautions against that happening. The air was clear, there was no bad weather and no sign of the quatzels that have harassed our aircraft in the past. Unfortunately, the place where the aircraft came down is almost inaccessible from the ground and is far too rugged for one of the other aircraft to land. We need to bring their bodies back, to give them decent burials near the habitat, and we need to study the aircraft wreckage to try to find out what went wrong, but right now none of us are quite sure how we're going to do that.
Maurice, Sebastian's husband, is inconsolable and keeps accusing Hans of having damaged Bluewing by flying irresponsibly the last time he took her up. The flight logs do show that he was performing unnecessary aerobatics, but nothing that should have put excessive strain on the airframe. Hans defended himself against the accusations with threats of physical force against Maurice and I had to step in before violence broke out. I wish Hans were not so extravagant and extrovert. The rest of us are quite introvert by nature, being bookish, scientific types, but Hans is a showoff who has a habit of rubbing people the wrong way even when he's trying to be nice. I wouldn't have included him in the expedition, but his brilliance as a mechanic and an engineer impressed the panel so much that there was never any doubt about his inclusion. Whatever, he's here now, and we can only hope that he'll mellow and slow down a bit as he grows older.
in other news, Helga found an entire herd of hornbacks hibernating twenty feet underground while digging the foundations for a new lab complex. Their bodies were as hard as rock. When they took one back to cut it up and study it they found that its body was completely vitrified, solidifying its soft tissues to the point that all metabolic processes had stopped. Janice says that they could theoretically survive for centuries in that condition. It probably took weeks for the process to take place, and will very likely take weeks more for it to reverse itself when the long winter comes to an end. If we can figure out how they do it, the process will undoubtedly be very useful for deep space exploration.
"Seems strange to hear the First Fathers spoken of as if they were just normal people," said Daphnis as Tarvos went back to the Storyteller's list of dates. Beside her, Geirrod checked the fleethorn to see how it was cooking. He made an adjustment to the spit where the flames were a little too close to one of the spears. It wouldn't do to have the weapons damaged by the heat.
"I suppose that, to one of the First Fathers, the others were just people," Tarvos replied. "Especially when they bicker and argue like that." He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "We think of them as great heroes, mightier than anyone alive today, but what if they really were just people? What if the only thing that made them special was that they were first?"
"What a weird thought," Daphnis said. She didn't look too happy with the idea. Tarvos looked back down at the Storyteller and selected the next entry.
5.45pm February 5th Janus year 10
After a week of driving overland, during which we observed many creatures and habitats that require further study, we managed to get a rover to the crash site and recover the bodies. While examining the wreckage, we found that the air intakes were clogged up with feathery fluff that turned out to be the dispersal mechanism for a kind of high altitude plant. Maurice was embarrassed and apologetic to Hans, who was generous in his acceptance of it. I hope this is the end of the hostility between the two men, but I fear that Hans might take it as confirmation that his flamboyant driving and flying habits do no harm and is encouraged to continue with his showing off.
It's his wife Helga he particularly wants to impress, I think. She is easily the most beautiful of the women and likes to flirt with the men. Hans is good looking by any reasonable standards, but is put in the shade by the godlike physiques of Alberto and Vimbaye and he might think that he has to keep proving himself to his wife or she'll lose interest in him. When planning this mission, I really didn't think that interpersonal dynamics would be one of the worst problems we'd have to face. Not when we all got together so well during training back on Earth. We're all adults. Even the youngest of us is nearly forty. Why are some of us acting like teenagers?
7.15pm Day 1 Janus year 12
We have decided to no longer use the months of the Earth calendar in our log entries. It wasn't so bad during the long summer, when every day was pretty much the same as every other, by which I mean hot and stifling, but now the warm and cold seasons of the long winter are creating a very noticeable year that is far shorter than the Earth year. It's odd calling a month July when there's twenty centimetres of snow on the ground, and it's even stranger calling a month December when every day is milder than the one before. From now on, therefore, we're just going to number the days 1 to 252, with day 126 being the warmest.
Helga wanted to simply eliminate four months, two in spring and two in autumn, but having May as the month following February would have seemed even stranger and so I vetoed the idea. Annoyingly, though, a lot of people are using Helga's system anyway, in direct contravention of my wishes. It's as if they have no respect for my authority. It's not an important enough matter to make a fuss about, but I worry that it may be a symptom of a deeper problem.
Most of the time there's no need for one of us to be the leader. We all know our jobs. We all know what to do. We split up into teams that agree among themselves how their task is to be accomplished. Sometimes, though, someone wants to do something that's outright dangerous, like last week when Alberto and Emilia wanted to visit the Dante volcanoes, which are erupting at the moment, to get fresh samples of magma. We're not just here to study the biology, they point out. Four of us are geologists, here to study the planet itself, and we need to be allowed to do our jobs. I had to veto it, of course. It would have been much too dangerous. The robots are quite capable of collecting the samples they need. That's one of the jobs I have as the leader; to decide when something they want to do is just too dangerous.
Maybe I haven't been hard enough on them. I've been trying to be amiable and friendly and they seem to see this as a sign of weakness, as if they no longer have to pay attention to my wishes. I have to remind myself that I'm not here to be their friend. I'm here to be their leader, their protector. Their survival may depend on how...
Contents of journal corrupted
"That's it for tonight I'm afraid," said Tarvos, looking down at the Storyteller. The number in the corner that said how much stored sunlight it had left was back down to one and was flashing red. "How's that gooth, Gyre?"
"About done," said Geirrod. "Do you like your meat burned to a crisp or bloody as hell?"
"About half way between," said Fornjot, looking hungry as he stared at the animal the younger man was turning on the central spear.
"Then it's done," said Geirrod. "Gimme a hand with it."
The two of them lifted the animal down, and Geirrod produced his knife to cut off strips of meat. He handed the first to his sister.
"James Cook was a weak leader," she said as she took it. She took a bite from the meat and chewed with a look of ecstatic delight. "He was troubled by feelings of insecurity."
Fornjot nodded his agreement. "I wonder how he became leader," he said as he took the next piece of meat. "Perhaps his father was a great, strong chief, and when he died they chose his son to succeed him, thinking he'd be equally strong."
"Strong leadership doesn't always run in families," said Tarvos as he took the next piece.
"Does it run in yours?" asked Geirrod with a smile as he cut off a huge chunk for himself.
"You're speaking to your brother-in-law," said Daphnis sharply. "Show some respect."
"Future brother-in-law," said Geirrod. He took a big bite from his chunk of meat.
"We were married in the humper burrow," said Daphnis, looking sideways at him. "We'll have a proper ceremony when we're back with our clans, but we're married now."
"If that makes you married, then you're married to Skoll," said Geirrod.
Daphnis stared at him in pain and betrayal before looking away, and Geirrod's eyes widened in sudden shock. "First Fathers, I'm sorry! I spoke without thinking..."
Tarvos grabbed him by the arm and shook him furiously. "What in the name of Caelus made you say something so..."
"I'm sorry!" the younger man protested, staring in shame and guilt. "I wasn't thinking." He turned to Daphnis. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said that." He touched her arm but she jerked away from the touch. "Sis, please!"
"Best you keep your mouth shut from now on," Tarvos warned him, "if you don't want me to..."
"Tarvos," said Daphnis, turning back to face him. "It's all right. He's stupid and he says things without thinking, but he doesn't mean any harm. I forgive him. You should too."
"I'm sorry," Geirrod repeated, looking back and forth between them. "Please, I really am. I'm so sorry."
"Okay," said Tarvos reluctantly, letting him go. "Maybe it's best if we just pretend it didn't happen." He kept a sharp eye on Geirrod as he said it, though.
"It didn't happen," Daphnis agreed. "Let's forget it and just eat."
They returned to their meal, but they were now eating with a tense, awkward silence, with Geirrod in particular only nibbling despite his hunger. When they finished, they lay down around the warm, dying fire and went to sleep without another word being spoken.
