Doctor Who_ Beyond the Sun - Matthew Jones [10]
Bernice’s attention returned to her work. ‘Do you know, I think we’re in business here.’
Tameka watched over Bernice’s shoulder as she began to loosen a long, charcoal-grey object which was embedded in the soil in the bottom of the pipe. To Tameka’s untutored eye it looked like a thin, gnarled branch. Either that or a –
‘You there,’ a new voice demanded. ‘Stand away. Immediately.’
Two middle-aged men had hopped down into the pit and were scurrying towards them. The speaker was tall and lanky, with a superior air about him. The second was short, fat and visibly sweating despite the cold and rain. His waterproof suit was tied around his thick waist with a piece of knotted string. Emile brought up the rear, panting in his cagoule. Tameka scowled at him and he averted his gaze. She still hadn’t forgiven him for laughing at her.
Tameka had seen the two men before, wandering rather aimlessly around the site, although she didn’t know that they were ‘coprolite analysts’ – whatever that turned out to be. They seemed to spend most of their time alone. It wasn’t that the other archaeologists ignored them, but they weren’t exactly welcoming either. Most people were polite but maintained a discreet distance.
The short, sweaty one bustled up to Bernice, pushing her out of the way in his eagerness to examine the discovery. ‘A marvellous example,’ he cooed. ‘How long has it been exposed to the air?’
Bernice, still recovering from his rudeness, muttered something unintelligible.
‘There’s no time to waste,’ the tall analyst interrupted in a disapproving tone. ‘We need to get this into a chemical solution. Now.’ He produced a small transparent plastic box from beneath his waterproofs. The first analyst lifted the object out of the pipe and, as if he were holding something unbelievably precious, carefully transferred the small item into the container. Tameka was surprised when, just before he closed and sealed the lid, the smaller coprolite analyst leant over the box and took a deep sniff.
‘I think we’ve got something really special here,’ he confided to his companion, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
‘Now Anton,’ the other chided, ‘you know we won’t be able to detect anything until we’ve treated the coprolite. Come along now, we’ve got a busy afternoon ahead of us.’
As the two men prepared to leave, Tameka turned to Bernice and asked, ‘What do they think they’re gonna find?’
‘After they’ve treated it, the coprolite will regain its original form, texture and smell. It’s a mucky business but it provides the most direct evidence for what was actually eaten.’
‘You don’t mean – ’
Bernice started to laugh. ‘I’m afraid so. Coprolite is fossil faeces. You discovered a piece of the sewage system that hadn’t disintegrated and a piece of a Chelonian slave’s faeces was lodged inside.’
‘Ergh!’ Tameka screwed her face up. ‘That is the single most disgusting thing I have ever heard.’ The two ill-matched men turned and stared at her, looking affronted. Tameka pulled a face at them. ‘I just hope you wash your hands, that’s all.’
‘Coprolite analysis is a serious business,’ Bernice continued, having missed the exchange.
‘There’s a specialist at St Oscar’s who claims to be able to recognize some foodstuffs in treated coprolites from odour alone. Liquorice, apparently, is particularly easy to identify by smell.’
‘Sniffing ancient poo?’ Tameka screwed up her face. ‘Hoo boy! That is no way for a grown person to earn a living, I’m telling you. It’s just so . . .’ Words couldn’t really describe it. ‘Icky,’
she managed eventually.
‘Your tutor is referring to Professor S’Cat, Chair of Coprolite Studies at St Oscar’s, young woman.’ The tall, snooty man had been listening in. ‘You should show some respect. He is, after all, the foremost authority on coprolite analysis in this sector of space.’ Satisfied with their attempts to secure their prize, the two men explained that they would inform Bernice of any developments and then moved off, giving Tameka their most disapproving looks as they