With the status as raptor pack alpha and his new job description as the park's raptor behavioral analyst, Owen had also started to think of what would happen to his girls should something happen to him.
No one could say how long velociraptors lived. The oldest dinosaur alive today was the t-rex and she was twenty-five. John Hammond had seen her birth, had seen her grow, and she had been his pride and joy at the first Jurassic Park. The velociraptors of those days hadn't survived when the military had cleaned the island.
Those on Isla Sorna couldn't be dated, unless they were captured and closely examined.
No one was crazy enough to attempt that.
So, no one knew whether they were the original raptors or their offspring. No one had spent enough time to count the pack or had tried to identify individuals. Owen had been to the island only once, and though he would love to go back, he knew that right now he couldn't chance it.
Not because the pack might be jealous.
It was his own evolving mind that frightened him. He might be overwhelmed by the wild pack, might be drawn into their pack connection, and he wouldn't risk that.
So no one knew about how old raptors could get if they weren't killed by their own kind or humans. If Owen died before them for whatever reason, the pack needed to be taken care of. There had to be a contingency.
Simon Masrani had been way ahead in that regard. When Owen had dropped the man a mail in his personal email account to talk about the matter, he got a call back the same day.
An hour after sending off the mail.
It was a surprise.
Then again, maybe not.
"I was wondering when I would hear from you, Mr. Grady," had been the easy greeting. "Especially concerning the topic."
"Is that why I got such a quick, personal call back?"
Masrani laugh had been real. "Yes and no. Mostly yes. My lawyers have been working on this particular scenario. Among other things concerning you, the pack and what you represent."
While Josh, Laurel, Reggie, Nancy and whoever else was talented and had formed a faint connection of sorts with their specific charges could be replaced, Owen held a special status.
His connection was a permanent bond.
It went deeper. It was more personal. It was outside normal terms like empathy or telepathy. He had a control that couldn't be copied. He held a respect that no other keeper or trainer would ever get from the velociraptors.
Masrani had been very much aware of it and he, like Owen, knew there needed to be a contingency plan.
Now, months after the call and the long talk, Owen was presented the final draft of a special kind of contract. It wasn't a last will and testament. It more or less handed over the four velociraptors to their alpha on a permanent basis.
Masrani Global had had costs. Developing the DNA, splicing it, fertilizing the eggs, and so much more. Owen had no idea how much creating a real live dinosaur cost, but he bet even a small compsognathus had cost more than a medium-sized family home. Sure, with time and experience costs could be lowered, but the animals still needed work, medical treatment, food.
And then there was Owen Grady himself His house was actually a company-owned place. He had a lease, not a title. The land it stood on was Masrani Global's, leased to them by the Costa Rican government.
They could just boot him off the island if he became a problem or if they decided to terminate his contract. Owen was nothing more than an employee.
He had no way to just move and take the pack with him.
He depended on the good will of a billion-dollar company and the word of the CEO, who paid him a hefty salary.
So what if Masrani was no more? What would happen? And what if something happened to Owen? What would happen to the pack?
"I have an offer for you, Owen," Masrani had told him. "Read it thoroughly. Get it checked by a lawyer you trust and who isn't associated with my company."
x XX JW XX x
A few hours later he had a file in his inbox that was dozens of pages long and, while in English, still not in a language he really spoke or understood.
Legalese.
It was a nightmare, though he understood the basic idea, and it had him feel elated and shocked in one. Add a little terrified and it described his mood for two days before he dared to call Alan Grant.
While Grady wasn't fluent in legal speak, it was his luck that Alan knew someone he could trust.
So Owen sent the draft to Alan, who gave it to his friend.
It was a matter of three days and he got a green light. Things looked completely legal and all in his favor. The lawyer had read and approved the safety of the contract. No traps, no hidden clauses, no loops.
"I got the house and the kids," he joked when Alan called.
"I know it might sound awkward, but congratulations." Grant smiled. "As far as I understood Mike, you did. And more. A lot more. This is big, Owen. Very, very big. Masrani is actually signing over ownership of four animals his company owns and who could be worth millions."
He knew that. It was something mind-boggling.
"The pack is mine. All four of them are under my protection, in my care, are my responsibility. No one can take them away from me."
It sounded fantastic.
Alan nodded. "And you got a safe place to live. You have the house, though not the land."
"The island was leased from the Costa Rican government," Owen reminded him. "But they can't evict me from my house."
'They' being Masrani Global or any incarnation of that company, a possible merger company or anyone who might one day buy Masrani Global. Should Simon Masrani step down as CEO, Owen had an iron-wrought contract that the raptors couldn't be taken from him, nor could anyone move him from the island. Should the island fall back to Costa Rica because the lease wasn't picked up again, Owen would still be a recognized inhabitant. He would have the option to move somewhere else, though.
Including the pack.
He didn't think it would come to that. Even if Jurassic World would really close down one day, the whole island was a sanctuary for dinosaurs, and together with Isla Sorna it was a haven for scientists.
He and his girls were safe here.
For the rest of their lives.
In the event of the death of Owen Grady, the velociraptor pack he was alpha of will pass to his chosen beneficiary.
The wording had been selected to even include a possible future growth of his pack, should Owen ever think about adopting new members.
Not that he had any plans.
He still needed a beneficiary. There would never be a new human alpha, but he needed a legal guardian.
Owen would have to think about that.
x XX JW XX x
He talked about it with the pack, of course. Blue had been aware of their alpha's worries about their safety should he no longer be around. She had watched him, had been closer, had hovered, but Owen hadn't touched the subject until the contract had been approved.
They wouldn't accept a new human alpha; there was no doubt there. Blue would take over. It wasn't negotiable.
"Got it in writing now," Owen told her as he sat on a boulder, watching the pack train stealth hunting in the tall grass. "This will be yours then."
The restricted area. Owen's responsibility and the pack's play ground. It would be where they would be moved and set free.
Blue tilted her head. She wasn't happy about those kinds of thoughts. Owen understood because he didn't like thinking about these scenarios either, but it had to be done. He had signed the contract. Legally everything was fool proof.
"This is for you," he said softly. "As well as for my peace of mind."
She nuzzled against his knee and he smiled, petting her nose.
"We're provided for. Should Masrani hand over control to someone else, or even if his Board decides to go over his head, nothing can touch us."
Independence.
He nodded. "Independence. Freedom. I am their employee. I answer to Claire and to the CEO. But out here, this is us. Just us."
Blue's nostrils widened, inhaling the scent of the jungle, the plains, everything. Out in the grass the pack had started to come back, drawn to their alpha, their minds like a tight circle around his own. His four personal guards. His sentinels.
They grouped around him, soft grunts and quizzical noises. He let them touch his mind through the bond, reassuring them, getting their reassurance in turn.
The pack would never accept anyone but him. He was their alpha. Anyone else was simply a human they wouldn't attack as long as they didn't try to hurt the pack. Owen's word was law.
"This is yours. Ours," he said and looked at the rise of the jungle-covered mountains.
Wherever you are, we are. Here. Home.
Owen smiled.
x XX JW XX xx XX JW XX xx XX JW XX xx XX JW XX xx XX JW XX xx XX JW XX xx XX JW XX x
For the next weeks, Owen took more and more time off to experiment with his growing perception of the other park residents. The pack wasn't thrilled, but they were reassured again and again that he didn't want a bigger pack or a new connection to another dinosaur.
He needed to work with this growing ability.
Blue even encouraged it, especially shielding himself from sudden intrusions. Contact with other dinosaurs wasn't encouraged; she wanted their alpha safe, not overwhelmed. Blue was his anchor and together with the pack she was his safety net and back-up shield. They wouldn't let him become adrift in the sea of different minds.
The t-rex and the mosasaurus were the strongest among the minds he frequently touched. He never got any form of communication from them. The pack wasn't telepathic either, but the pack bond made it possible for Owen's brain to interpret the sensations he got into something like words. With Blue it was perfectly fluent. The others he understood, but in a different way.
"The alpha-beta bond is different, hm?" he mused as he sat on the porch, watching the sunset.
Blue agreed. She had been the first and she would always be different.
x XX JW XX x
He spent the next morning watching Nancy work with the mosa, calling her, sending her on a round toward the stands and turning on her side, then rise up to grab the shark. The shark was nothing but a snack and only for show purposes.
"You're getting good," Owen remarked when Nancy was done, using a whistle to tell her charge that the show was over.
The mosa lazily swam around the lagoon, diving, then coming near the surface again.
"She's responding," Nancy answered, picking up her gear.
They were heading toward the tunnels where the visitors would be able to view the large animals in her full size and beauty. Owen followed, carrying two cups of coffee. One was a latte with an extra shot of caramel syrup for Nancy, who took it gratefully. His own was a simple black. No milk, no sugar. He liked it like that.
"I keep stopping before I get to close, but I think she understands. She recognizes me. She knows it's me, not you." Nancy raised her brows.
Owen mimicked it. "Me?"
"You're training yourself, right?"
He shrugged. "It's weird to get echoes of others, not just the pack. And it could be dangerous. I want to be sure to steer clear of not-pack animals."
"Good plan. Is it working?"
"So far? Yeah."
They were by now walking past the gigantic glass screens that allowed a view into the lagoon and the mosa was swimming alongside, brushing along the transparent barrier as if to show Nancy she was close.
Owen smiled.
Nancy just sighed. "Don't. She's not pack, we're not connected. She simply responds better and she is playful. I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole, though."
When they arrived in the tunnel of the underwater observatory where visitors seemed to walk through the mosasaurus kingdom, Nancy stopped and smiled when her charge passed over them, the rumble audible in the otherwise silent room.
"She likes you," Owen commented, catching something along those lines in the back of his mind.
"She's talking to you?"
"No. It's a sensation. And they can't talk."
"The pack does."
"I catch their thoughts and my mind translates it into a language I understand. They don't talk like we think of talking," Owen clarified. "I have a translator in my head that takes what I sense and makes it into something like words."
"Ah." Nancy nodded. "All I get are something like emotions. Not really like mine. It's hunger or happiness. Or eagerness. It's enough. I'm not sure I want to hear a voice in my head."
"Not a voice. A sensation and the knowledge what was said."
"Still not what I want." She smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Not my kind of thing."
Owen shrugged. It was normal for him and he couldn't imagine living without what it felt like now. It was part of him, something that had always been there, his potential, and the raptors had opened a box in his mind that he hadn't had the key to before.
The mosasaur's whine-rumble-squeak echoed around them and Nancy looked up, smiling at the pale belly above them. The mosa was swimming lazily, no faster than they were walking, and Owen caught her intention to swim out into the depth of the lagoon later to explore.
"You got plans?" Nancy asked.
"Nope."
"Lunch?"
"Where to?"
"Mexican?"
"Sunrio is open?"
"They opened yesterday and a few of us already tried it. They're just as good as a year ago. And very eager for guests."
Owen shrugged. "Okay, Mexican it is. You're buying."
Nancy laughed. Employees who had stayed on in the shut-down park had meals for free and only had to pay for alcoholic drinks themselves. Masrani Global was footing all bills.
A lot more people would arrive two weeks before opening, filling the empty ranks of workers, technicians, mechanics, cleaning personnel, park staff, guides and more. It would be something all of them would have to get used to again. The island had been close to deserted when it came to people and soon it would be swarming with tourists and park employees.
Sometimes Owen was glad he lived outside the theme world. He wasn't a hermit, but he didn't enjoy weaving through throngs of people and watching out for kids running around everywhere.
They ran into Reggie and Dr. Fiona McKellan. She was a biologist and herbologists, working in the botanical gardens and bamboo forest. Owen had seen her a few times already. She declined a lunch invitation, though Reggie was all for it, and in the end they found that they weren't the only ones to rediscover Mexican food. A whole group was already seated at various tables, waving and calling hellos.
Owen and Nancy chose a window seat, talking about the mosa, the pack, whatever else came to mind. They had a large, mixed platter for two, with burritos, enchiladas, tacos and dips. Nancy made a happy noise when the waitress brought over guacamole.
"To die for!" he told him.
It was a pleasant meal. It reminded him that despite everything, he, Owen Grady, was still a human being with human needs. He wasn't a raptor and never would be, like Blue, Charlie, Delta and Echo would always be raptors and not humans.
x XX JW XX x
Owen came back to the raptor paddock late in the afternoon. Mentally going over his To Do list he decided to finish painting the house. Tomorrow he had planned to check on the restricted area, which meant the pack would have a good day out on their own, do their own patrolling.
Picking up his tools he started on finishing the house.
tbc...