The Island of Dragons (Rockpools Book 4) by Gregg Dunnett (best love story novels in english .txt) 📗

recognize the name, which is odd since I’ve studied the staff list on the Marine Biology section of the University website – I wanted to see how many I recognized from journal articles I’ve read – and I don’t remember a Professor Hall. But there could be all sorts of reasons for that. He could have come to work here recently, and the university hasn’t updated its website in a while. That’s probably what’s happened.

Even so, I’m quite excited about it, because having a really good tutor is super important. He’ll guide me through which subjects to study, and that will have a big influence on my future career. For that reason, having a strong student-tutor relationship is important as well. So I decide that, even though my actual classes don’t start for a few more days yet, I’ll go and introduce myself to Professor Hall today.

Chapter Seven

The Marine Biology building is a little distance away from the main part of the campus, down by the harbor and next to the aquarium. It’s almost brand new, and really well equipped, which was one of the main reasons I chose to study here. I go on my bike, riding along by the river, and it’s a beautiful morning. In my head I go through the questions I want to ask Professor Hall – about what articles he’s published, and what his specialisms are.

When I get there I lock my bike up and go inside. I have to scan my new Student card to do so, which is quite fun. The building has an exciting, busy feel, with lots of students and staff milling around, carrying folders and drinking cups of coffee – actually it’s just as I imagined it would be. I ask at the reception desk for where Professor Hall’s office is. She looks on her computer, and directs me to the third floor. So then I have a choice between taking the stairs, or using the amazing glass-walled elevator, which offers a view out over the harbor. Obviously I call the elevator.

I’m alone when I do so, but then I’m joined by a gaggle of girls. It’s a bit sexist of me to call them a gaggle, but there isn’t really any other word – they certainly don’t look like scientists – and they’re behaving in a very girlish way, giggling and whispering things to each other, and shaking their hair about as if they’re in a shampoo advert. It all makes me feel a bit self-conscious. And inside the elevator I can’t help but hear what they’re talking about, a party that either happened or is going to happen soon, I’m not quite sure, and something about a boy one of them is sleeping with. I assume the last part, as that’s the bit that’s whispered, but it’s fairly obvious. When the elevator stops at the third floor I get out, realizing only then that I didn’t even notice the view. So I stop by the window to have a look.

It is a nice view. A lot nicer than my new room, though maybe not quite as good as the view from my house back on Lornea, if I’m being picky about it. I do like the islands here though. There’s no islands in Silverlea bay. When I’ve looked for a while, I turn around and start to search for Professor Hall’s office, and after a few hundred meters of corridor I find it. And then I’m nervous again, when I knock on the door.

At first there’s no reply, and I start to think that maybe I should have emailed first, to make an appointment, when suddenly a voice replies from inside.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t say if I should go in, or anything else in fact, so after a second I knock again, and again the same reply, only a bit more annoyed now.

“I said what is it?”

So this time I open the door a fraction. And inside there’s a frankly wonderful sight. It’s a room lined with bookshelves, and a couple of desks with quite good computers, and covered with papers and work. Proper work. There’s posters on the walls showing different species of octopuses, and there’s a glass tank filled with water with some pebbles and seagrass at the bottom. I squint to try and make out what else is in there.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

I turn quickly to the man at the desk. Professor Hall is almost exactly as I imagined him. He’s quite old, probably in his forties, and he’s sitting at one of the desks with a microscope in front of him. He looks friendly even though I’ve interrupted him, well quite friendly – no one likes to be interrupted when they’re doing important work.

“Professor Hall,” I begin. “I’m very sorry to disturb you without an appointment, but my name is…”

POP!

I stop talking, unsure where the noise comes from, and also because it’s kind of obvious he’s not listening to me. Instead he’s staring intently at the tank, I notice now there’s some kind of shrimp in it.

“Did you hear that?”

“Err…”

“Did you know there are over five hundred species of Alpheidae? Probably far more than that, but five hundred we know of?”

“Alpheidae… is that pistol shrimp? The ones that fire bubbles?”

Professor Hall looks up, he looks pleased. “Yes! Except they don’t fire bubbles so much as generate a low pressure vortex by snapping their claw incredibly fast, producing a shockwave capable of stunning or killing much larger prey. Watch this.”

He dips a wooden stick in the water, moving it near to where the shrimp is half buried in the sand, at the bottom of the tank. For a moment nothing happens, then:

POP!

It happens quicker than I can see it. Professor Hall turns to a digital thermometer he has pointed on the tank.

“The temperature, in a tiny area, is as hot as the surface of the sun. Isn’t that incredible?”

“Yeah it is. Are you doing a study on them?”

“Actually no.” Professor Hall looks