Okie, so we're nearing the end, possibly with three-ish chapters to go. I think. And that means more Becker, more action, fewer dinosaurs... hang on. (Yeah that will be rectified soon hopefully). And now a serious bit.

WARNING: I realise I placed this story under the K+ rating. Unfortunately, it grew and started containing a few fight scenes etc., so as of the next chapter, I'm placing it under a T rating, so there's the warning; I don't wish to mislead anyone.

Also, exam season has started, so expect more erratic up-dates. Sorry! End of serious bit. Phew! In the meantime, Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Primeval. Not even Rex.

"Ready?"

"No." There was a pause filled with the sound of clothes rustling and a zip being drawn open, followed by the unmistakeable clicking of a gun's magazine.

"No point in that. If you pull that out, they'll shoot before you a chance to use it." The second man ignored the first, who fidgeted with impatience. "Will you hurry up? They're starting to look at us funny."

"Funnily. You're meant to have degrees to be doing what we are, so you can presume that grammar matters here," breathed the second man; he was a short, Asian man, but with the unmissable accent of someone who was born and raised in down town London. His sensible hair cut and black suit hinted nothing at the contents of his case. His taller friend also worse a sensible blue suit, with long brown hair tied in a pony-tail down his back. His blue eyes shifted constantly as they assessed everything within view without his head shifting.

"Come on," he urged.

"Ready," murmured the other man.

"Right let's go." The two men marched stiffly up to the second barrier, having breached the first through the use of the forged papers which would once more be put into use now. By now, Ponytail knew, at least nine other men should be heading over to a window that Hill had said could easily be forced, having climbed to wall of the outer compound.

First, however, came the challenge of getting in themselves, their papers having to hold up to a more vigorous inspection than a quick conversation through a car window.

They arrived at the checkpoint that was the last line of the ARC's security. A bored soldier looked up at the two men and frowned.

"Pass, please," he demanded, holding out his hand. Ponytail coughed politely.

"We're here to see Mr James Lester. We're to be given temporary passes, I believe. Here's our letter." The soldier took the letter, adding a little tug to show his disbelief at the story. "Your friends at the gate cleared us and said you'd provide us with directions."

The soldier glance at the rota under the desk and his frown increased. "Mathews and Carter. If they were that obliging, I'd be surprised."

"I paraphrased, naturally," said Ponytail, quickly. He'd swore internally; he'd hoped that he could con the soldier into thinking that the gate guards had been helpful, to persuade this one. Typical that they were impolite as a matter of course, not just to them.

The soldier studiously read the letter, slowly. Every second that passed Ponytail could feel his companion tense up a little more.

When two minutes had passed, in full, Ponytail was just on the verge of speaking, sure that the letter must be finished, when Jones approached the desk at a mid-sprint.

"News just in. We're under attack!"

"What?" cried the guard. Ponytail's companion flinched, but thankfully remained fairly calm.

"Yep. Turns out the plumber was working for MI5 and Hill was working for a gang. We are to refuse admission to anyone suspicious." The guard looked pointedly at the two men opposite the desk.

"Well, looks like I've already got two." Jones swung around in surprise, as if he hadn't noticed the two men before. "An entire letter from Lester with no disguised insults and four 'grateful's. For IT work? I don't think so."

Ponytail decided on one last ditch attempt. "You need your IT systems sorting. I heard they were breaking down."

"So do all computer systems! You're fishing, mate," replied the guard, spitting the 't' and reaching for his gun. "Besides, we have a Connor. We wouldn't need you."

Ponytail felt rather than saw the movement of his companion. The reason he felt it was that his companion pull out his gun from his pocket, but it only got halfway, the movement minimal. No, it was the sound of four shots being fired by the two soldiers, trained to react to intruders quickly, that dominated Ponytail's attention.

He turned his head, but found his friend no longer stood there, but was laid on the floor, motionless. He then drew his gaze to his chest, which felt like there was a wind howling through it. He felt cold and tired.

So tired. He closed his eyes to sleep and was soon granted it.

Becker upped his pace as he sprinted down the corridor and heard the bangs. It was of course at this point he realised he was unarmed, but also realised he couldn't turn back now, but could only hope there was some firearms kept at the desk.

Barnet kept pace behind him, panting loudly. Becker ignored it, knowing he had set a fairly good pace.

He grabbed the corner to swing himself round and then pulled himself back onto it as the scene made him stop suddenly. Barnet ricocheted into him, but Becker held firm and he could hear a whisper curse from the Captain behind him. Looking down at Ponytail and his companion, then up at the two soldiers, who were just placing their guns back into their holsters, Becker tried to speak, but found he was out of breath to do so. It therefore fell to Barnet to make the enquiries.

"What happened?"

Jones, who glanced round at the pair of Captains before turning back to the scene, shrugged.

"Well," he began, but was broken off by the arrival of the man who was, still, his commanding officer. Banks bit back his first comments as he took in the two men's faces; they were slightly pale and wide-eyed, but maintained a form of seriousness.

"Who pulled first?" the Sergeant demanded. The guard, a man named Turnhill, pointed at the Asian man, who, on closer inspection, could be seen to be grasping a gun in his hand. "Good. The men at the gate on alert I presume."

"No, sir," answered Jones. Banks glared at him, though not so harshly as to scare the man who had, after all, just prevented intruders entering, performing his duties well. "I was on my way there to tell them and Turnhill."

"And it didn't occurred to you to just phone them," snapped Becker.

Banks looked at him sternly. "Easy on him. You might be used to it, but we don't shoot civilians often here. As it happens, it's protocol to not use the phones during a high alert. There's too high a possibility of them being hacked."

"Hacked?" exclaimed Barnet in surprise.

"You've not met Helen Cutter. That woman would do anything to gain access, I think, and can certainly provide some interesting new problems when she wants to. Come on, you two..." Banks addressed the two men. "Stay here. You're doing well here. You two..." he addressed the Captains. "We need to reinforce..."

Banks was broken by the entry of a man running into the back of him. Banks turned in anger, ready to unleash a full frontal assault on the man who had run into him so abruptly, but he stopped as soon as he saw who was standing in front of him.

"Jimmy! What on Earth happened to...?" Connor entered the small space, looking as bad as Jameson. Both had a trickle of blood running down their face and Jimmy was holding his arm in a protected way, obviously hiding a break, or at least a fracture. "What's happened now?"

"They kinda..." Connor broke off to take a breath before continuing. "They breach the East wall. About nine of them. Bit of a fight going on."

"Let's go!" ordered Becker.

"Hang on!" cried Banks. "Never heard of getting a report first? Connor, if you please..."

"We only met them by accident, 'cos Cutter thought it would be a good idea to do a perimeter search and we..."

"Details, please!" demanded Becker, exasperated by what he saw a blatant waste of time.

"We're losing," stated Jameson, much more use to giving brief reports.

"Right. Jameson, go to the medics. Connor, sound the alarm, then go to the gate and tell them what's happening. Captains..."

"We go?" asked Becker, impatiently.

Banks grinned. "We go."

"Good." And Becker started to run off.

"Becker!" shouted Banks after him.

Becker let out a heavy sigh and returned to the Sergeant, but this time, he'd had enough. This whole operation so far stank of red tape and he knew what red tape could do to a defence system.

"Look!" he yelled at Banks, who was notably taller yet somehow suddenly felt very small. "I've had enough. This place is under-attack and what's more, they have insider information. This is no time for bureaucratic pleasantries or trying to care for our enemies' opinions or trying to make reports after sound good, because let me inform you, if it goes wrong, it won't sound better because we did it in a pleasing manner. The result matters and it's about time you lot accepted that and stopped adding needless irritations. People could die, so will you kindly stop faffing and DO SOMETHING!"

There was a pause of silence as Banks drew in a breath. Connor and Jameson held theirs as they watched to see what the fiery, no-nonsense Sergeant would do in the face of this tirade.

Banks spoke. "East wall is that way," he states, pointing the opposite way to where Becker was heading. There was another pause ad Becker gulped.

"Oh," he said. "Thanks." He started running down the corridor, the correct way this time.

"Becker!" shouted banks after him again. Becker stopped and turned to face the Sergeant again.

"Yes?" replied the Captain, more timidly.

"Welcome to the team," said the Sergeant.

Becker smiled and then continued on his way as fast as he could.

Please review and comment. New Year's resolution to reply to all who do so. Let's see how long that will last. ;-)