Primeval

Series 6, Episode 2

"Collateral Damage"

Previously on "Primeval":

New team leader Ryan Hunt is put to the test when a passenger plane disappears through an aerial anomaly. As the Core Team works with helicopter pilot Jo, a recently demoted Emily must work with Team Three to stop an ancient bird of prey from killing thousands in modern day London.

When things go south in the past and the team crash lands, resulting in massive injuries for Hunt, Becker, and Matt, Abby strikes off on her own to save several passengers who left the plane. While alone in the jungle she discovers an unsettling secret military compound - and is saved from mercenaries by a mysterious version of Matt.

Meanwhile, in the present, Connor works with Emily and Team Three to bring down the creature before it wipes out a power station, and Emily butts heads with her new team leader, Eric Reddington. Eventually the creature is killed, the city is saved, and the plane makes it back to the present without any casualties, and yet... not all ends as well as it seems at the ARC. Hunt's secondary purposes are still unknown, and the mystery of Matt's doppelgangers is only just beginning. With dark intentions and darker secrets all around them, there's only one thing the team can be certain of: trust no one.


Chapter 1

"Auntie Jess, look at the dinos!"

Jessica Parker had spent what she considered to be more than an adequate amount of time looking at "dinos"... in fact, one could describe doing just that as her day job. She'd seen enough of the bloody creatures to last her a lifetime - indeed, her lifetime had been very nearly ended by a number of them - yet she found herself unable to resist as her young niece, Henrietta, dragged her over to the Tyrannosaur skeleton.

"It's great, Hen. How heavy do you think that dino was?"

"Not as heavy as the dino that you saw in the city." Jess couldn't help but cringe as her niece brought up the events of Convergence that had transpired a few months prior… events that had very nearly gotten Jess killed and the universe pulled to shreds.

"Hen, are you bothering auntie Jess about the dinosaurs again?" Jess spun around on her heels and cracked a smile as she saw her older brother, Howie, approach them. His wife was out of town and Jess had agreed to take her brother and his daughter to the history museum to help them pass the time… though she'd forgotten, in all honesty, how much of the museum she'd seen come to life in her time at the ARC.

"No bother at all. I'd be excited too if I had an aunt who'd seen real life… er, creatures," Jess said, trying her best not to let her smile falter. Howie walked forward and took Henrietta's hand, guiding his six-year-old daughter away from the dinosaurs and to an exhibit on "cromagnon man" - something Jess knew to be a fancy word for "cave people".

"Thanks for doing this, Jess. Hen doesn't get to see you enough - and neither do I for that matter."

"Well, in my defense, my job is literally keeping the planet safe from prehistoric monsters…" Jess countered. It was one of the few things she'd been grateful of since Convergence: the knowledge that she could talk about her job openly, ridiculous though it may sound, without fear of being locked away by the government. The secret was out, which meant no more lying to her friends and family about why she always seemed to be missing from holidays, birthday parties, weddings… God, she'd missed a lot.

"Either way, I'm glad we got to do this. It means a lot to both of us." Howie motioned towards Henrietta, who was intently reading the display information on the cave men, with his free hand. Jess smiled and nodded, walking up to stand on her niece's other side.

"What do you say, shall we all get some lunch in the 'Cretaceous Cafe'? I hear they've got dino shaped crisps," Jess said, taking Henrietta's free hand. Her niece nodded excitedly and the three set off down the stairs to find the cafe, unaware of the danger spinning into existence a few floors beneath their feet.


James Lester massaged his temples irritably, trying to suppress a growing headache. Seated in front of him were two of the ARC's "finest" (Lester knew from experience that "finest" around there meant "most insane"), and at the moment their bickering reminded him more of a pair of school children than grown adults who regularly fought dinosaurs.

"Hunt made a bad call in the field and nobody's doing anything about it. Lester, you can't just let this guy slide on through just because he's the minister's golden boy." This particularly annoying complaint came courtesy of Matt Anderson, time traveller and disgraced former leader of the ARC's core team. Seated to his left was Ryan Hunt, aforementioned "golden boy"; after Matt's fall from grace, the minister had thought it fitting to bring in a "ringer" of sorts, someone to bridge the gap between the slap dash organization the ARC had been operating as and the new, improved version they were trying to usher in.

James Lester didn't disagree, though he knew for his own safety never to say that to Matt.

"Look, Matt, it's been three weeks since I joined this team and we've been performing better than your team ever did before. Our incursion response time is up twelve percent from this time last year… before I came on board," Hunt retorted; he seemed to Lester to always know just which buttons to push to get a rise out of somebody.

"Shove the statistics up your ass, Hunt," Matt grumbled back, looking more like a child who'd had his milk money stolen by the schoolyard bully than a grown man arguing about his status as a professional. Lester might have laughed... if he had the taste for such things.

When he could no longer stomach the sound of the two men arguing, Lester put his foot down.

"Listen, if we're quite honest I just don't care. Matt, if you could get over your pride on your own time and stop using up my billable hours that would be simply smashing; and Hunt, do try not to alienate the entire team in your first month on the job." Hunt and Matt sat silently, staring at Lester. He rolled his eyes. "That's all. You may go."

With a dirty glance between them Matt and Hunt stood up and shuffled out of the room. Finally alone, Lester pulled open his desk drawer, bringing a bottle of scotch and a small glass cup out. Minister be damned - if he didn't drink on the job he'd have quit the job years ago.


"Can you believe Lester's making us do a damn follow up interview? I mean, it's not like we're the newbies - we've both been on the job for a while now."

Emily Merchant couldn't help but smile a little at this - if Eric knew more about her past, knew just how long she'd really been on the job, he might have spoken more carefully. Still, Emily couldn't deny that she was gradually warming up to her new field team leader. Eric Reddington was an acquired taste, to be sure, but in a way she didn't mind that… his forthrightness wasn't dissimilar to her own, much as it pained her to admit it.

"It's not as though we have much better to do at the ARC. Isn't the point of our work to be useful wherever we can be?" Careful, Emily, she thought to herself. You're 1800's sensibilities are showing.

"Yeah, well, it still sucks." Eric tilted his hands on the wheel and the ARC field vehicle swung gracefully around a corner, pulling onto a small dirt road. Emily peered out the window and counted the numbers on the houses.

"451, 452… there! 456." Eric slammed the breaks, a cloud of dust billowing around the car as it skidded to a stop. As the dirt settled she shot Eric a contentious look; not that she herself could have driven a car much better, but the way the car jolted back and forth reminded her more of a horse drawn carriage than a sleek automobile. She punched the button to release her seatbelt and stepped out of the car, her work boots connecting firmly with the ground beneath her.

"You ever done one of these before?" Emily asked as Eric walked around the side of the car, tugging his ARC jacket onto his shoulders to combat the chilled morning air.

"Dozens of times. All newbies do. You tellin' me you never did a Civilian Incursion Incident Report?" Eric asked, cocking his eyebrow at her as he pulled the pen and paper of out of his pocket.

"I kind of… skipped the 'newbie' part," Emily covered lamely. She was increasingly discovering that keeping the secret of her past a secret from her new team was more difficult than she'd ever expected. Eric looked as though he was about to make another comment, but instead shook his head and examined his notebook.

As they walked up the steps to Dr. Isabelle Grayson's house Emily stole several looks around the property; it was clear from what she was seeing that Grayson wanted for very little, yet Emily noticed some inconsistencies that gave her pause.

"Eric, look at that," Emily said, grabbing his arm and directing his attention to the driveway.

"Yeah, she's got an ugly white Prius and a BMW. She's rich. What's so wrong with that?"

"But why would she have two cars if she's a single parent?"

"Like I said: she's rich. Rich people buy whatever they want no matter how ridiculous it is. They don't worry about the things us regular folk do." With a shake of her head Emily let it drop, but somehow it still bothered her. Eric rang the doorbell and a few moments later Grayson appeared.

"You two?" she asked, clearly surprised by their presence… or surprised that they were even alive.

"Us two," Eric said, slipping a foot into the door and inviting himself in. "We're here to do a follow-up interview for the Anomaly Research Center. It's just standard procedure." He smiled jovially, talking over Dr. Grayson's concerned objections and walking into the house. Emily rolled her eyes and followed suit, trying to console the widow that it would only take a moment of her time.

"We just have a few questions to ask you, and then we'll be out of your hair," Emily explained, looking around curiously as Dr. Grayson led her and Eric to a small dining room table. The room butted up against the kitchen and over the small counter Emily could see the Grayson's refrigerator, covered in drawings that, she guessed, were the work of her son. One of them looked oddly familiar to her, though…

"So, Dr. Grayson, do you feel you've had any negative emotions or experiences following your encounter with the creature?" Eric asked, snapping Emily back to reality. She watched closely as Grayson's eyes shifted around, no doubt weighting answers in her head.

"No. None at all."

"And no odd occurrences, dizziness, sudden mood swings, or family issues?" As if on cue a little boy thundered out of the hallway adjacent to the dining room, a fighter jet in one hand zooming after the t-rex in his other. Grayson smiled nervously at her son, who dropped his game as soon as he caught sight of Emily and Eric.

"Honey, these people are here to do some very important business with mommy. Can you go play in your room for just a little while longer."

"Come on sport, we'll go play outside and leave mommy to her business." Emily scrunched her face in confusion as the man attached to the voice she'd just heard rounded the corner and picked the boy up.

"Thank you, Kyle," Dr. Grayson said, turning her attention back to Emily and Eric.

"Was that your boyfriend?" Emily asked, discarding the sheet of pre-set questions they were meant to ask.

"No, my husband." Emily pursed her lips, her eyes shifting between Isabelle's "husband" and Isabelle herself. Eric cocked an eyebrow at her; what are you getting at?

"He's your son's stepfather, then?"

"No, Kyle is Trevor's father. We've been together for almost fifteen years now… in fact, our anniversary is just next week," Grayson explained, a twinkle in her eye. Emily opened her mouth to ask another question, but her attempt was met with an elbow to the ribs by Eric. He motioned to the Incursion Report in his hands, which still had three blank pages to be filled out.

Emily huffed, staring out the window and rolling things over in her mind. The conversation between Eric and Dr. Grayson faded to a dull whisper as she replayed the events at the power station over and over again.

'It's too risky. We can't waste the time."

"Look, I have a son at home whose father died a year ago."

His father died a year ago.


Hank Smith grumbled several obscenities to himself as he descended the stairs to the museum's basement storage facility.

"This damn places gives me the creeps," he expressed aloud, as though his audible voice could ward off whatever perceived evil spirits he was next to sure were down there. He yanked the flashlight out of his utility belt and switched it on, bemoaning the rather small beam that it was able to cast.

"Find the headpiece that goes with this mummy," his boss had said. What a freakin' jerk. Hank had a degree in European history and here he was working for freaking minimum wage in a freaking history museum for a freaking cripple of a boss and -

A weird nose snarled out of the darkness to his right, reverberating off all the metal piping and sending a shiver down his spine. Damn, this place gave him the creeps. Probably freakin' cursed by all the artifacts that they'd stored down there.

He swiveled on his heels, throwing the beam towards where the noise seemed to have originated. It's nothing, Hank. He told himself, though it did little to comfort his damn nerves or stop his damn hands from shaking. It's just an old building.

But then the noise came again, this time off towards the left. He jumped, shining the light down the narrow passage and nearly pissing himself when he saw a caveman poised to throw a damn spear at him.

"Just an exhibit…" he muttered. He moved down the hallway towards the holding area for egyptian artifacts, steeling his own nerves against the wooly mammoths, the saber tooth tigers, the velociraptors, the -

Holy shit, did that one move? He whipped the light around and shined it on the raptor. It stayed still. Damn, these exhibits were so life-like these days. He turned back around in time to see the teeth flying out of the darkness toward him. The giant jaws latched onto his head and Hank screamed in pain, falling to the floor as a pair of claws ripped through his stomach and yanked on his intestines. A second pair of jaws clamped down on his left leg and yanked it off.

As his head rolled to the side and an odd sense of calm came over him, and suddenly he knew it was the end. No more fighting, just peace. A light began to glow in the distance, first all together and then shimmering in a hundred pieces, swirling around like shards of glass. Pretty, he thought, barely noticing as the raptor gripped his neck in its jaws and snapped them shut.