In the centre of each engine hood was a row of vents plenty wide enough for the ants to scuttle through. Once inside, they found themselves in a dreadful universe of gargantuan steel pipes and enormous spinning wheels. The suffocating air stank of diesel and the incessant din rattled the ants into numb stupefaction. But they had been well primed by their superior officers. They braced themselves against the swirling gales generated by the huge cooling fans and followed their predetermined route, marching over the rolling ridges of the pipes, unfazed by the tangle of tubes, being natural experts at mazes. The units tasked with finding the engine’s spark plugs quickly located them: four towering pagodas some distance ahead. It was not necessary for the soldier ants to approach the plugs – in fact, they had been warned that the electric fields around the plugs could easily kill them. Instead they focused on the lone wires that dangled from the top of each spark plug; these trailed on the ground near the ants, each one about as thick as the ants were long. Coming to a halt beside these wires, the soldier ants removed the mine-grains they’d been carrying on their backs and deployed them, three or four mines to a wire. They set the timer knob on each mine, then quickly withdrew.
Unlike the miniature incendiary devices used in the First Dinosaur–Ant War, these mines were specially designed for disconnecting wires. A brief but brilliant indoor fireworks display ensued: blasts popped and crackled, neatly severing the four wires, and the broken ends fizzed and sizzled in a blinding shower of sparks as they made contact with the metal casing.
The disconnected spark plugs could no longer ignite the fuel. The loss of motive power brought the bulldozers to an abrupt halt, and inertia threw several ants off the pipes.
While all of this was happening, other ant contingents had gone in search of the fuel lines. These were much thicker than the spark-plug wires, and through the clear plastic walls the ants could clearly see fuel coursing down the tubes. They clambered on top of them, encircled them with a dozen mine-grains each, then retreated, mission accomplished.
The bulldozers had advanced about 200 metres when they suddenly stopped, one after the other. Two or three minutes later, six of them burst into flames. Their dinosaur drivers hopped out of the cabs and fled. Before they’d got very far, several of the burning bulldozers exploded. The ants standing guard around the Ivory Citadel could see nothing but thick smoke and sky-high flames.
The drivers of the four vehicles that had not caught fire returned to them. Buffeted by the heat coming off the other bulldozers, they lifted the hoods to check the engines and soon worked out what the problem was. One of the dinosaurs instinctively pulled a signal rod from his pocket. These rods could emit ant pheromones, and the dinosaurs used them to summon ant maintenance technicians. The driver stared at the flashing signal rod for a long time before he remembered that the ants no longer worked for him. Cursing, he stooped to reconnect the wires himself, but his claws were too big to fit inside the engine and pull the wires out. The other three dinosaurs were having the same problem. One of them had the bright idea of using a twig to hook out the wires, but even then his clumsy fingers could not re-join the wires, which repeatedly slipped from his grasp. Pretty soon, the drivers had no choice but to leave their bulldozers to the mercy of the flames that were now spreading from the vehicles alongside.
Observing this, the ants erupted into cheers, but Field Marshal Jolie of the Ant Federation Army, who had directed the battle from an armoured car, responded with cool-headed pragmatism and calmly gave the order to retreat. In fact, the artillery and missile units were already long gone. As the remaining ant troops winged their way east, the Ivory Citadel became a true ghost town.
The dinosaurs, meanwhile, were gazing shamefacedly at the row of blazing bulldozers. Pretty soon their embarrassment turned to fury. The officer was apoplectic. ‘You loathsome pests,’ he spluttered, ‘did you really think you could get one over on us? Seriously? We only brought those bulldozers along for a lark. Watch carefully now, you pea-brained parvenus! Mess with the mighty Gondwanans and see what hell your toy city reaps!’
Ten minutes later, a Gondwanan bomber flew low over the Ivory Citadel. As its massive shadow engulfed the city, it released a bomb the size of one of our tanker trucks. An eerie scream echoed through the air as the bomb plummeted towards the city’s central plaza. There was an earth-shaking boom and a thick black column of dust rose 100 metres into the sky. When eventually the dust settled and the smoke cleared, all that was left of the Ivory Citadel was a blasted crater of scorched, pulverised soil. Turbid groundwater began to well up through the base of the crater, submerging all remaining traces of the ant world’s greatest city.
The dinosaurs were also wreaking their revenge over in Laurasia. Greenstead, the Ant Federation’s hub city on that continent, was annihilated at almost the precise same instant. Its handsome high-rises and chic metropolitan cityscapes were razed by the high-pressure hose of a Laurasian fire engine. When the water jets ceased, there was not a solid structure still standing, just a sticky, stinky, inglorious mudflat.
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.