Lost In Space

Owen Grady ran his grubby hands under the tap, the cold water refreshing against his skin, giving him a brief respite from the glaring heat. But what he really needed a break from was Hoskins, the man not taking the hint to piss off. Vic Hoskins was Head of Private Security, and was too fond of lording it over Owen at every opportunity. He had been talking for ten minutes straight about the changing nature of war, and how dinosaurs were the way forwards in terms of weaponry, Hoskins refusing point blank to see the flaws in such a strategy. But what annoyed Owen the most was that Hoskins didn't see the dinosaurs as beings in their own right, only something that had been sprung out of a test tube and could be easily replaced or altered on a whim.

"We're sitting on a goldmine, Grady," Hoskins was arguing, "and Masrani is using it to stock a petting zoo."

"He just wants to teach people some humility," Owen corrected him, silently adding Hoskins could also benefit from some instruction in the subject.

Hoskins rolled his eyes. "You seriously think the eighth richest man in the world is only into oil, telecom and family fun parks?" he scoffed. "He's so diversified he doesn't even know what he owns."

"How long has InGen been practising this pitch?" Owen asked, amused against his will.

"Since the day we hired you out of the Navy," Hoskins said coldly, coming over as he spoke, making Owen instinctively straighten up, "you knew the end game. Not our fault you got… attached." He glanced over his shoulder at the training enclosure where the raptors were prowling. "These animals can replace thousands of boots on the ground, Grady," he said, turning around again, "saving thousands of lives at the same time. Isn't that an ideal worth attaining?"

"Not really."

"Whaddya mean?" Hoskins frowned. "A Navy man such as yourself should be first in line to get this idea off the ground."

"Well, nowadays, I flatter myself I'm more a man of peace"-

-"Who is skilled in the art of war" –

-"I'm a goddamn animal behaviourist, Hoskins!" Owen snapped, finally losing his cool.

"There's no room for sentimentality on the battlefield, Grady," Hoskins retorted, "so the sooner you stop acting all Earth Mother over these beasts, the better."

Owen's jaw tightened, his wet hands unconsciously curling into fists, almost on the edge of knocking Hoskins onto the deck. Hoskins always got under his skin, but he'd never crossed the line before, even as he'd veered dangerously near it once too many times. It was usually bullshit Hoskins spouted, Owen reacting accordingly, never taking it seriously, even allowing himself a smile now and again, but not this time.

"Mr. Grady!" one of the workies yelled from across the yard. "Got a call waiting."

"Who is it?" Owen asked, already guessing who it could be. Only one person ever called the main office to speak to him, Claire preferring to complicate the lines of communication, using a walkie evidently beneath her.

"Ms. Dearing - says it's urgent."

"Dearing, huh?" Hoskins said significantly, Owen ignoring him.

"Okay, no problem," Owen then called back, shaking his hands dry before wiping them on the back of his jeans. "I need to go, man," he said abruptly to Hoskins, "duty calls."

"If that's what you're calling it," Hoskins said with a lewd wink, making Owen shake his head in disgust before turning and leaving.

Cassandra wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, the gesture now second to breathing. It looked like the whistlestop tour of Claire's workpace was still on, Claire's frantic phonecall leading them on yet another whirlwind adventure. Of the call itself, Cassandra had caught an interesting snippet here and there of 'you're not goddamn allergic to vanilla scented lotion' and 'polish your shoes for once', as well as the alluring mention of 'board-shorts' several times. Whoever it had been on the other end had definitely not been Karen for sure, only serving to intrigue Cassandra further, the only bright spot on her horizon so far.

Being at Jurassic World, where dinosaurs lived and breathed again, was only inspiring anxiety in her, not wonder. She had been a child when the first generation of dinosaurs had been resurrected, and whilst it had awed her sisters and countless other kids around the world, the knowledge had only served to scare her. For her dinosaurs had lurked in the same realm as the monsters under her bed. The devastating events of Jurassic Park that had ensued, had only consecrated that fear.

She still didn't understand why her smart and successful sister had chosen to align herself with an ailing franchise beyond the challenge it presented, but in this moment, Cassandra thought she could trace it back to that childish awe, that it had seeded itself in Claire, drawing her here to its roots. But Cassandra still couldn't feel what Claire felt, even now, when she was actually here on Isla Nublar. Even being personally invited to view Masrani's pet project had failed to ignite any emotion in her beyond uneasiness, and that had been short-lived, Cassandra only seeing some damaged glass and a lot of trees, even as she was inwardly thankful that was all she'd witnessed.

"Penny for them?" Claire asked, interrupting her reverie, making Cassandra glance up.

She shook her head, suddenly feeling very tired. "I'm just thinking of how I don't seem to be open to the experience that is Isla Nublar," she admitted ruefully. "I was thinking I should be feeling something by now that goes beyond pissed off, but nope, not even the slightest hint of anticipation."

"Well, you wouldn't be you if you did."

"True," Cassandra mused, "I don't exactly go for glorified prehistoric petting zoos."

Claire fixed her with one of her 'looks'. "Don't worry, little sister," she then said sweetly, too sweetly, "I am going to change all that."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Claire said, smiling now. "So far for you, it's just been brick walls and a ton of trees"-

-"Damn right, it's been," Cassandra said with feeling, "I am still definitely not down with the dinosaur part but aside from that, it's not exactly proving the family vacay you promised, Claire."

Claire half closed her eyes. "I know that," she said, her sweet tone taking on a tense edge, "and I said I am working on it."

"All I see is you working on fitting us into your stupid schedule," Cassandra snapped, glancing about her, only to find they were in yet another corridor, but she figured she should be grateful that they were walking rather than risking their lives in the helicopter again.

"Cut me some freaking slack, will you!?" Claire snapped, startling Cassandra. "God, I'm sorry, Cass," she then said, scrunching up her eyes. "I just need to get one little thing done and then I'll take you straight back. No helicopters, I swear, and tomorrow, we'll start over. I'll personally give you and the kids the grand tour, and you will never able to look down your nose at a dinosaur again."

Cassandra looked at Claire for a long moment, seeing the tell-tale crease between her brows that usually foretold disaster. Normally Claire was the epitome of ice queen, but once in a blue moon the ice melted, sweeping away everything in its path. "Okay," she agreed against her will, "here is me, cutting you some slack." She made a cutting motion, her fingers scissoring the air, hoping to make Claire at least smile, but her sister just nodded abruptly, before setting off again.

"What did you think of Mr. Masrani, then?" Claire suddenly fired at Cassandra over her shoulder. "He thinks you're charming."

Cassandra blinked, startled. "Well… he's a bit of a character, isn't he?" she then said, brow furrowing. "Eccentric. Abrupt too. But somehow you don't care because of all that charisma. It seems to me like he dazzles people into doing what he wants - he sort of mesmerizes you into a trance like that snake from The Jungle Book."

Claire looked at Cassandra as if she were insane. "Well, that's certainly one way of putting it," she snapped, "just don't let my boss hear you comparing him to a cartoon snake."

Cassandra bit her lip. "What's up with you, Claire?" she said nervously. "It can't just be Karen getting up on your grill - or me either come to think of it."

Claire stopped again. "You know that guy I told you about?" she said, confusing Cassandra. "The one I went on a date with?"

"Indiana Jones?"

"Yes."

"So?"

"Well, I have to somehow convince him to check the paddock and make sure it's safe."

"The Domino Rexi thing's paddock?" Cassandra frowned, her pronunciation making Claire wince. "But you just said it was safe."

"Yes, but I need to make it… safer."

"But if it's safe already, why does it need to be safer?" Cassandra said, even more confused now. "You can't get safer than safe."

"Mr. Masrani is just being thorough."

"He's not exactly thorough when it comes to manners, is he?"

"Cassandra."

"Well, he just walked out without so much as a by-your-leave, right?"

"He's got a lot of demands on his time."

"I'm sure he could have spared a second to say, bye, nice meeting you and all that jazz."

"Cassandra!"

"Look, why do you have to convince Indiana Jones to make sure it's safer than safe?" Cassandra said hurriedly, still all at sea. "Is that not part of his job description? He's security, right?"

"He only really deals with the raptors."

"The raptor what?"

Claire took a deep breath. "He raised this group of raptors from birth," she began, picking and choosing her words, even if it was a little late for such caution, "his work solely focusing on their growth and development in captivity, from which"-

-"Wait up - how can they be born?" Cassandra said, confused. "I thought you created them from scratch in the lab."

"Cassandra!" Claire exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "Stop with all the damn questions!"

"Just tell me for, chrissake!"

"He's an animal behaviourist attached to a research program one of Mr. Masrani's companies is spearheading. That's all you need to know."

"A raptor is a dinosaur, right?"

"Mr. Grady?" Claire said as she sashayed across the yard towards Owen, who braced himself, ready for another rollicking.

"What do they want now?" Owen said brusquely, his grey gaze flickering over her, appreciating the picture she presented against his will.

Claire Dearing was what his uncle would have called 'a fine figure of a woman', being tall and stately, with soft curves and striking colouring. As usual, she was immaculately attired, wearing a light coloured jacket draped casually over her shoulders, complementing her white linen skirt suit and matching high heels. Claire had always been a woman who knew how to dress, but she was also a woman who knew how to get on his last nerve. But then again, he had always been attracted to the uptight executive type, and heaven knew why, Owen figuring he would probably be better off with the freewheeling free spirits he usually encountered out here on Isla Nublar.

Claire tossed her head back. "I need you take a look at something," she snapped, "and now."

"Now's not a good time."

"Now is the perfect time."

"Need me to get out you of a scrape, huh, Claire?"

Claire glared at him. "Mr. Masrani would like you to perform a security check on the paddock of our latest acquisition," she began, only for her head to jerk up, her blue eyes suddenly becoming angry. "Cassandra!" she yelled, almost startling Owen out of his skin. "Get your butt over here!"

"Jeesh!" Owen complained, making a big show of rubbing his ears. "Who the hell is Cassandra when she's at home?" he then asked, confused. "Wasn't she that chick who was always making predictions of doom or something?"

"Cassandra is my little sister," Claire said through gritted teeth as she frantically flapped her hands above her head, "unfortunately."

Owen followed the path of her stare, amused at seeing Claire lose her trademark cool. The source of her annoyance was leaning over the metal railing of the pig pen, her back turned to them, Owen unable to make out anything but a lot of long bare leg and ginger hair precariously piled up in a messy top-knot. But from the little he could see, she was definitely ticking all his boxes, from the waist down at least. "Nice stems," he said, turning back to Claire, who was now puce, "very nice stems actually. Must run in the family." He pretended to cast Claire's ankles an appraising glance, making her glare at him. "Is your sister single?" he then asked, enjoying poking the bear even more. "Because baby, I'm ready to mingle."

"Keep your finger out of that particular pie, Owen."

"Oh, it's Owen, now is it?"

"Cassandra!"

"Oh, just leave it, Claire," Owen said, becoming bored now, "she's okay hanging out with the piglets. Lil Cass ain't going nowhere, honey."

"Don't 'honey' me."

"What, would you rather have me point out you're breaking like a hundred healthy and safety regulations?"

"I'm just… very briefly stretching them."

"Well, you obviously didn't get the memo."

"What memo!?" Claire said, suddenly panicking, thinking she'd missed some vital interdepartmental communication.

"That this isn't 'Bring Your Baby Sister To Work Day'," Owen pointed out, folding his impressively muscled arms across his chest, "and then maybe you wouldn't be getting your frilly panties into a twist."

Claire looked out under her bangs at him. "You know nothing about my frilly panties or otherwise, Mr. Grady," she said coldly, her lips thinning.

Owen arched an eyebrow. "You don't know anything about mine, sweetheart," he said deadpan, only for his remark to fall flat, Claire no longer listening. He frowned as she craned her neck past him, eyes widening in alarm. "Jeesh, am I really that boring, Claire"- he began, turning around, only to see one of the workies running towards the viewing platform with a catching pole, Claire's sister somehow suddenly up there too, making Owen rush forwards, reacting on reflex. "What the hell!?" he yelled, heart in throat. "What's going down over there!?"

"Pig's loose, sir!" one of the other workies yelled, running over to the viewing bridge with the others. "Tryin' to catch it!"

Owen slowed down, sweat dripping down his spine. "Okay, be careful," he hollered as the workie with the catching pole skidded onto the viewing bridge, "and get that goddamn girl off the platform and now!"–

The rest of his sentence became caught in his throat, time seeming to slow down, Owen watching in horror as the workie with the catching pole was suddenly and violently yanked forwards, some unseen force dragging him along for several feet, his cries for help abruptly cut off as he crashed into Claire's sister, knocking her over the low railing, the raptors watching as she fell through the air, where they waited below.

What do you see in those yellow eyes

Cause I'm falling to pieces…