The health minister now had his say too. ‘Because our internal organs are relatively big, it is feasible for dinosaur surgeons to operate in certain cases. But the ants’ surgical techniques are non-invasive and therefore safer and more effective. Records show that in the past dinosaur surgeons did on occasion perform invasive surgery, but the technique has been lost. To recover it, we would need to master a range of other techniques such as general anaesthesia and wound suturing. There’s also the matter of expectations and habits. Having enjoyed several millennia of ant medical care, most dinosaurs would find the prospect of being cut open during surgery absolutely unacceptable. So, at least for the foreseeable future, modern medicine cannot function without the ants.’
‘The dinosaur–ant alliance is an evolutionary choice with profound implications. Without this alliance, civilisation could not exist on Earth. We absolutely cannot allow the ants to destroy this alliance,’ the science minister concluded.
‘But what recourse do we have?’ the emperor grumbled, drumming his claws in irritation.
Defence Minister Lologa finally broke his silence. ‘Your Majesty, the Ant Federation admittedly has many advantages on its side, but we have power on ours. The empire should make use of this power.’
Dadaeus cocked his head, letting the implications percolate through his imperial brain. A decision was made. ‘Very well, Field Marshal,’ he said, ‘order the chief of staff to formulate a plan of action.’
‘Field Marshal…’ The interior minister grabbed hold of Lologa before he could leave. ‘It’s crucial that you coordinate with Laurasia on this.’
‘He’s right,’ the emperor interjected. ‘We must act in unison with them, lest Dodomi play the good dino and win the ants over to Laurasia’s side.’
11
The Second Dinosaur–Ant War
The Ivory Citadel, which had been rebuilt atop the ruins of its predecessor (destroyed in the First Dinosaur–Ant War), was the largest ant city in the world. It had a population of 100 million ants, covered an area roughly equivalent to two football fields, and was the political, economic and cultural centre of the Ant Federation on the continent of Gondwana. The modern-day megalopolis bristled with high-rises, the most famous of which was the Federal Trade Tower; at five metres, this was the tallest building in the ant world.
Ordinarily, the citadel’s winding streets pullulated with a continuous torrent of ants going about their business, heading this way or that but always in unison. Since their high-rises did not require stairs – because ants could access any floor simply by slipping in from the outside – these rivers of ants often seemed to defy gravity, flowing in vertical waves all the way up the sides of the city’s skyscrapers. The citadel’s airspace was also generally a hive of activity, whirring with squadrons of diaphanous-winged drones. Most striking of all were the wind turbines that crowned the rooftops, as luminous as meadows of white flowers in full bloom.
Today, however, the usually bustling metropolis was deathly still. All of the citadel’s permanent residents had been evacuated, as had the vast numbers of ant workers returned from dinosaur cities. A mighty flood of several hundred million fleeing ants surged out from the eastern perimeters of the citadel and into the distance. To the west, a chain of towering metallic mountains had sprung up from the formerly endless plains: ten grotesque Gondwanan bulldozers had lined up side by side, their blades blocking the skyline in a cloud-scraping steel wall. The Gondwanan Empire had issued an ultimatum to the Ant Federation: if the strikers did not return to work within twenty-four hours, the bulldozers would level the Ivory Citadel. As the sun sank below the western horizon, their long shadows cast the city into darkness.
Early the next morning, the Second Dinosaur–Ant War began. A breeze cleared away the morning mist, and the newly risen sun shone upon a battlefield that seemed impossibly huge to the ants and claustrophobic to the dinosaurs. On the western perimeter of the Ivory Citadel, ant artillery units fanned out in an impressive twenty-metre-long line. Several hundred large-calibre guns glittered in the sunlight, the size of our firecrackers. Set back from the frontline, more than 1,000 guided missiles stood by in their launchers, each weapon about the length and breadth of one of our cigarettes. A covey of Ant Airforce reconnaissance planes circled the city, like tiny leaves caught in a whirlwind.
In the distance, the ten Gondwanan bulldozer operators started their engines. An almighty rumbling filled the air and as the vibrations travelled through the ground, the citadel shook as though rocked by an earthquake. The glass windows of its high-rises rattled in their frames.
Next to the bulldozers stood several dinosaur soldiers. One of them, an officer, raised his megaphone, angled it towards the city and began to shout.
‘Listen up, little bugs!’ he yelled. ‘If you don’t come back to work smartish, we’re gonna drive these handsome ’dozers right on over to your city and flatten it. It’ll be the work of minutes – eh, lads?’ He swivelled round briefly to smirk at his soldiers. ‘In fact, as you know, bug-lets, we don’t even need to go to that much trouble. To quote the immortal words of an esteemed general of the First Dinosaur–Ant War: “This city of yours is smaller than one of our kids’ toy sandpits. The children could flood it just by pissing on it!” Ha ha ha!’
There was no answer from the Ivory Citadel – not even to remind the officer of the unfortunate end that particular dinosaur general had met in the First Dinosaur–Ant War.
The dinosaur officer did not hesitate any longer. With a decisive wave of his claws, he screamed ‘Forward!’ and the bulldozers began to advance, picking up speed as they went. A soft hissing sound rose from the citadel, only just audible beneath the roar of the bulldozers, like air escaping a balloon. Thousands of superfine white threads shot out from the city and lengthened rapidly, as though the buildings had sprouted hair. These were the smoke trails of the ants’ missiles. The barrage of missiles soared over the open ground between the city and the bulldozers, raining down on the hulking great machines and the dinosaurs behind them.
The dinosaur officer caught one of the missiles in his claws. It exploded in his palm with a puff of smoke. He yelped in pain and flung the fragments away, but when he opened his claws to look, only a tiny flap of skin had been torn off. Several dozen more missiles struck him, detonating with sharp pops all over his bulky frame. As he swatted at his sides, he burst out laughing. ‘Oh, your missiles are just like mosquitoes! I’m itching all over!’
The ant artillery began its bombardment. The line of guns flashed with fire, as though someone had lit a string of firecrackers and tossed it onto the Ivory Citadel’s doorstep. Shells pelted the dinosaurs and their vehicles, but the explosions were drowned out by the ear-splitting thumps and clunks of the bulldozers and the ammunition left nothing but smudges on the cabin windscreens.
Less than two metres in front of the bulldozers, more than 1,000 ant aircraft suddenly rocketed straight up from the ground, their gossamer wings glittering in the sunlight. They propelled themselves over the tall blades of the bulldozers and alighted on the vibrating yellow metal of the vehicles’ front hoods. Looking upwards, all the ants could see was the endless shine of windscreens reflecting the blue sky and white clouds overhead, obscuring the dinosaur drivers inside.