A/N: Thank you again for your reviews - yes indeed, Jim is safely back in charge again, and the expedition is almost there. Just one more overnight stop for them - though it is hardly going to be free of incident (when are these things, after all?). I have left one little revelation unhinted at, but rest assured that we shall be coasting towards a full helping of gorgonzola, with a side of stinking bishop and a gooey drizzle of extra-ripe camembert - rest assured!

Chapter Twenty-Four

Last Stretch

Taylor looks worried, "You think he's going to be a problem, Malcolm?"

"I hope not." Malcolm looks across to where Falker is still out cold, while Janet and Diego sit with him, both looking worried, "From what they've told me, he's become increasingly obsessed with the contents of his data - and the refusal of other academics to accept them. Apparently he never published any academic papers - which is rather essential if you're going to be taken seriously as a scientist - so it was pretty inevitable that people weren't going to listen to him."

"So he wrote books?"

Malcolm nods, "I've read them - but, having met him, I'm wondering if the editor who reissued them did some judicious editing after the fact. The books seem well argued and evidence-based; but the way Falker's behaving doesn't tally with that at all."

Taylor frowns, "So he's a nut?"

"I wouldn't go quite that far - but close. I get the feeling that his work was far more wildly put, and probably a lot heavier on conjecture. Until I see his results, though, I can't be sure."

"Which you can't because his computer won't work."

"Exactly - though his obsessive determination to get at it, and his conviction that I'm in on some sort of conspiracy against him because I can't magically produce a power cable for something so obsolete that no one's used one like it for a century makes me wonder exactly what I'm going to see once I do manage to do it."

"And you can?"

"With a bit of research, yes - I think I can fabricate something that'll do the trick; though I'm beginning to think it might be better for all of us if I left the blasted thing here when we go."

"I wouldn't. If he's that nuts, he'll try and go back to get it."

"I know. That's why I'm not going to do it - though it's going to be locked up and hidden away for the rest of the trip. If he's too busy trying to find it, then perhaps he'll leave the solar farm alone. I can fit it behind the service panel in my rover; it's flush with the rest of the bodywork, so he's not likely to notice it."

Taylor smirks, "Reminds me of the times I'd check those panels for contraband from the security teams. I didn't realise you'd found it as well."

"And you wouldn't believe me if I told you I've never used it for anything before, would you?"

"Nope."

It's a simple matter to unfasten the panel with the appropriate key, and - as Malcolm had hoped - there's plenty of room to conceal the laptop, despite its bulky size. No wonder people use it for contraband - but then, what use is a service panel if it's too small to work in?

By the time he's concealed the computer, Falker's woken up; and his strident tones can be heard right across the camp, "As soon as we reach civilisation, I'm having that bastard arrested! He's stolen my laptop, dammit!"

Reynolds is standing over the man as Malcolm emerges from behind the vehicles, "If you want to make a complaint, then talk to the mission leader."

"Which is?"

"Doctor Wallace."

Falker tries to get up, only for both Janet and Diego to grasp his arms and stop him, "Bryce - stop it. They're helping us - and you're making it very difficult for them. Malcolm's already promised he's going to build you a power cable when we get to where we're going."

"So he can steal my results! I know what he's trying to do!"

Reynolds looks back at Malcolm with a bemused expression, while, behind him, Janet looks deeply uncomfortable, "Why would he do that? He said that you were right - so why would he want to take your results? He believes you!"

"He's just saying that so he can steal my data!"

What the hell's wrong with the man? He seemed perfectly fine when they got him out of the ship - so why's he behaving like a complete arse now? Either he was in shock then, or he's in shock now: it's impossible to know. Perhaps the reality of being 85 million years in the past has begun to sink in, and he can't handle it.

The noise has attracted Mira, who comes to join Malcolm, "Boy, when you make enemies, you don't do it by halves, do you?"

"And this time, I did it without even trying."

"Sun's starting to move over. Time to get going."

"Right. I'll get Dunham to work on marshalling the troops. Such troops as we have."

They're right out in the middle of the desert now, the great mountains and rocky outcrops left in their wake. Such is the monotony of the journey, that each day seems to blend into another, and it's remarkably difficult to keep track of how many times they've stopped, and how many days have passed. It was much the same on the way out - the only stops that remain in the memory are those where things happened - like that ghastly moment when Wicks disappeared in the night, courtesy of those damned bambiraptors. The vista is almost featureless, and the only reason they're staying true is because of Mira and her sextant. Malcolm knows full well that, had he been navigating, they'd probably be going around in circles by now.

The shadows are lengthening as they head out; the heat of the day shimmering back up towards the sky that hammered it down while they were resting under the awnings.

"I'm really sorry about Bryce," Janet says again, seated in the rear passenger seat behind them, "He's never been this bad before. He had his moments - particularly after his application for tenure got turned down - but we thought he was getting over it. We'd just had funding through to do the plankton measurements; it was one of the elements of our study of climate change; and we'd persuaded him that it was a good thing - that people were finally starting to take him seriously."

"As far as I knew, people were already studying the effects of climate change on phytoplankton." Malcolm observes as he guides the vehicle over a dune, "There were plenty of papers in a number of journals at the time that I remember reading."

"Bryce liked to believe that there was more to it than that, Malcolm." Janet sighs, "That he was the only one who knew how bad things really were. He refused to accept that the papers were independently produced. Every time someone published - even if it was someone on the other side of the world, he'd insist that they'd spied on his results."

"I hate to say it," Mira says, "But it sounds to me like they were absolutely right to deny him tenure. The more I hear, the more convinced I am that he's a seriously dangerous man. If he's not watched, he could end up killing the lot of us. I get the feeling that the only reason his true colours weren't revealed in his own time was because he was dumped here and they're coming out now."

"He never used to be like this." Janet says, very quietly, "I remember when I first attended his classes, he was brilliant - but for some reason he got fixated on the climate change thing. He wasn't the only one studying it - not by any stretch - but he got fixated on this belief that he was the only one who could see how bad it was, and no one else could stop it but him."

"It happens that way sometimes." Malcolm sighs, "Did this happen before, during, or after the divorce? Maybe that was the trigger."

"That was what I thought. The two were pretty much concurrent. He was so driven - so bright. I think he forgot about his marriage - and eventually his wife couldn't deal with it anymore. It got pretty messy. He really started to get obsessed after that - as though she didn't believe him, and he was on this crazy mission to prove she was wrong." She pauses again, "We really thought he was getting over it."

"Maybe we can sort him out once we get back to the Colony." Mira suggests.

"I hope so."

Sitting beside Mira, Malcolm can see she's sceptical; and, to be frank, so is he.

After another two days of tedium, the convoy crests another dune, and Mira nods, "Here we are. The ex-Phoenix encampment."

"Finally." Malcolm looks very relieved, "I was beginning to wonder if the continent had turned around. I hated that sense of getting nowhere." Bizarrely, he looks at the region where he endured some of the most miserable experiences of his life with gratitude - for, much as it was a horrible time, at least he knows now that they're a day or so away from the treeline, and home seems almost tangibly close.

The sun is getting high again, and he calls another halt. Now that they're closer to the scrublands, there are more signs of life - and a number of buitreraptors have been seen fleeing from the convoy, a sight that has astounded Janet, sitting behind Malcolm and Mira.

"We're really in the Cretaceous," she says, softly, "I couldn't believe it - but now…"

"They might look cute," Mira warns, "but if they're here, then their predator won't be too far away. We're back in bambiraptor country - and they're a hell of a lot bigger. They're the real reason why we put the fence line up when we stop."

Neither of them need to look behind them to know that she's shuddered.

The precautions they take now are far, far stricter than they were when they were further out. Now that they're back in territory that can more easily sustain life, the need to protect themselves has equally increased, and the guards are much more focused again - and their weapons are no longer on stun.

Paula is looking worried as they set up the camp, "We've got a problem, Malcolm." She whispers, "The last of the distillate's been used up - from now on, it's a matter of time before we start to lose the Commander again."

"I knew it was coming - but now that it's here…" Malcolm looks distinctly nervous. The last time that Commander Taylor was so detached from himself, he nearly got throttled, "What do you suggest?"

"Well - he knows that he's on borrowed time before he starts to revert back into that confused state; so at least we're all prepared now. The trouble is, once he starts to go, he's going to lose that awareness, so you need to be prepared to deal with him refusing to accept your authority. I've still got some sedative left - but I really need that for Mateo; he's not reacting very well to the fracture compound, so he's in a lot more pain than Mira. We may have to agree with the commander that he should be cuffed in a rhino again."

"In that case, let's go and talk to him."

Most of the tents are up, and Taylor is seated in the shade of one of the awnings extending from the rhinos. From his expression, they both know that they're right to do it now.

"So that's it, then." He sighs, as he sees them, "One way trip back to gaga-land."

"We don't know for sure, Commander." Paula says, "It may be that there'll be a residual effect that'll keep you with us until we get back to the Colony. It's just another couple of days now."

He shrugs, "Not worth the risk, Paula. How do we stand with sedatives?"

She shakes her head, "I need them for Mateo."

"In that case, have Dunham put a sonic on stun and have him on standby. Once this kicks in, I have no doubt that I'll try to take charge again - and I can't afford to do that. Not when we're so close to home."

"I'm not sure, Commander - being stunned too frequently can have a detrimental effect on you overall physiology."

"Better that than killing someone - or everyone."

"As you wish." She sighs, "Doctor Wallace?"

Malcolm nods, "I'll go fetch him."

Taylor sits back and watches as Malcolm heads off in search Dunham, and Paula returns to the corner where the strangers are resting. He shakes his head slightly, and wonders where they came from, "Passengers."

"Looks like it." Washington smiles, sitting alongside him, "No one ever said the Badlands weren't mysterious."

"You're in my head." He says, quietly, "You're not really here."

"You haven't let me go." She answers.

"What do you expect? I never got the chance to say goodbye. How am I supposed to now?"

She shrugs, "That's up to you. I'll stay as long as you want me to. What are the rosters looking like?"

That moment of clarity is gone, and he sighs, "In need of your firm hand, Wash. Dunham's capable - but he's still got a lot to learn."

"Leave it to me." She pauses, "Shouldn't we be moving on?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth." He grins, rising to his feet, "I'll get people moving."

Malcolm is talking to Dunham as he approaches them, "Time to get moving, I think."

"Commander?" Dunham looks startled, and then turns to Malcolm with a look of concern. Malcolm, too, looks very dismayed, "It's too early to go yet, Commander, the sun's too high. Mira…"

"Mira?" Taylor's tone is suddenly dangerous, "You've put her in charge?"

"She's the best expert we have in survival techniques, Commander. She's got us back out of the Badlands alive - the fact that we're back on familiar territory means that we can manage ourselves now." His tone is placating, but he still looks as though he thinks that the Commander is a bomb on the verge of detonating, "With the sun like it is, we need to wait until the worst of the heat's dissipated before we move on."

His voice is too reasonable for arguments, so Taylor nods, curtly, "Fair enough. We move on in an hour."

Dunham and Malcolm exchange a nervous glance as he turns on his heel and returns to his seat. Surreptitiously, he flicks his sonic to stun, "Do we wait until he attacks someone, or do I do it now?"

"I really don't know." Malcolm sighs, "Thank God we're nearly home."

It's been nearly a week since the sudden restoration of proper order in the Colony, and most of the damage seems to have been repaired. At least no one used bombs this time around; so when Taylor gets back, it won't look as bad as it might've. Looking out of the main doors of the Infirmary, Elisabeth is surprised to see Yseult approaching, and looking a little pale.

"What's wrong?" After everything that's happened, she can't help but wonder if Yseult has had some sort of anxiety attack. Now that Jackson's no longer a threat to her, the close shave she experienced when he used Erin as blackmail against her is bound to have had some sort of repercussions. Elisabeth Rose is just the same with Maddy - very clingy, nervous and anxious when away from her mum. Sharon's been struggling with the fallout with most of the little ones.

"Sorry." Yseult sighs, "I think I'm going down with something - I was sick this morning, and I still feel pretty rubbish. I'm supposed to be meeting with my team this morning to touch base on what happened while I was under house arrest - I can't do that in the throes of a bug. I was hoping you could prescribe me an anti-emetic or something - I really can't put this off any longer."

"Come in." Elisabeth says, smiling at her, "You've had a hell of a lot of stress over the last few weeks, so I'm not surprised you've picked something up. That sort of thing plays havoc with your immune system."

"Thanks." Yseult follows her inside, then stops, and forces herself to swallow, hard, "Sorry…"

Without hesitation, Elisabeth grabs a receptacle, and holds it for her friend as she retches, "It's not fun, is it?" she sympathises, "Once this has subsided, I'll get you a mouth-rinse and something to calm your insides down, okay? It's just a temporary measure, mind. If your body wants to get bugs out of the system, then you should really let it."

Taking deep breaths, Yseult sits in a proffered chair, "I know - I just want to get through this morning. If I have to spend the rest of the day with my head over the loo, then so be it."

"If you're okay with it, I'll just do a quick blood scan so we know what bug it is, and then I can decide whether it's worth fighting."

"Fair enough." Sitting back in the chair and accepting a glass of mouth-rinse with relief, Yseult holds out her arm, and sits as Elisabeth runs the scan.

"Ah."

"What? God, it's some mutant norovirus, isn't it?"

"There's no antibodies in your system at all other than the ones I'd expect to see. There's something else, though: Human Chorionic Gonadotropin, in significant quantities."

"And that means what?"

"It means that you haven't got a bug - but you have got a bun. In the oven."

Yseult stares at her, "I'm pregnant?"

Elisabeth nods, "About six weeks along or so - just like last time you started showing sicky symptoms."

"I'm pregnant…" she repeats, "Malcolm'll be astounded."

"I think the pregnancy is probably about as old as the expedition, Max."

Yseult reddens, "I suppose you could call that the result of my husband's golden goodbye."

Elisabeth laughs at her embarrassment, "It's great news - congratulations."

"Thanks - I can't quite believe it. Erin's going to have a sibling."

"Yes, she is."

Jim sighs as he stands at the door of the brig. The guys who've been looking after the occupant are reporting that Jackson's been nothing but complaints and whingeing from the moment they took up their posts. Mostly it's about being locked up for 'doing nothing', the standard of the accommodation and demands to see someone 'more important'.

The rest of his crew have been confined to their homes and are under guard to make damn sure that they don't try and make up a story together that'll get them off whatever hook they think they're on. Once Taylor's back and interviewing them, the important thing is that they tell it like it was, not how they hope will minimise the consequences. His only contact with them since that time has to oversee the provision of supplies to their homes and making sure that their families are inconvenienced as little as possible. Other than a couple of the kids using the situation as an excuse to bully their peers, they're innocent.

Most of the last week has been spent wandering back to the gates rather too often, in the hopes that the expedition will hove into view sometime soon. It's a bit pointless to do it - but he can't help it. After what's happened, the sooner they get Taylor back - and under Elisabeth's care - the better.

Right. That's it - he's run out of excuses not to unlock the door and go in. Jackson's hardly likely to speak to him either - but he's demanding to speak to the person in charge and, until Taylor's back, it's Jim or no one.

"Oh. Finally." Jackson spits as soon as he's inside, "Wondered when you were going to show up."

Jim shrugs, "Got more important things to do." He says, affecting an air of disinterest, "Like clearing up the crap-holes you left."

"Yeah, right. How am I to blame? That little bitch poisoned me!"

"Considering what you were going to do to her, I don't blame her one bit." Jim snorts, "It doesn't matter that you were flat out on the deck. You and your guys left the colony unprotected against something that could've destroyed us in a single day. Did you think that the pest control teams spend their days sitting on their asses playing games on their computers? Because you had them out in the fields, they weren't monitoring their systems and it took nearly an hour to get them back to their posts and priming the countermeasures. If we hadn't taken charge, then we'd have no food next year."

Jackson shrugs, "And you think Taylor would've done better."

"No. Not think; know. He would've had people at their posts, working like they were s'posed to, and they'd've known the locusts were coming before they turned up. Do you still think this place runs itself?"

"It was doing fine once I took over. Everyone was pulling their weight."

"Except you. You were no better than Parker."

That seems to prick a nerve, "Parker was a joke! He didn't have a damn clue how to run this place!"

"And you knew that, didn't you?" He isn't likely to tempt out an unguarded comment, but it's worth a try, "He could talk the talk, but not walk the walk. The perfect patsy."

Jackson glares at him.

"I've spoken to your cronies." Jim says, calmly, opting not to add that his conversations have largely consisted of making sure that they knew they weren't allowed to speak to one another in any capacity. And not much else.

"What have they said?"

"Lots." Jim smiles. Again, he doesn't reveal that their responses have been equal complaints and attempts to justify their activities.

"What about?" Immediately, Jackson is nervous.

"Oh; this and that."

"They're all liars, dammit! All of them - you'd better not believe what they tell you about anything!"

"Really?" Jim looks intrigued, "What reason would they have to lie to me? They did things they shouldn't and now they're having to face the consequences. Just like you."

"And I get to sit here while they shift the blame!" Jackson snaps.

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that. Most of it's pretty mundane stuff, really." Jim continues. Politics may not be his forte, but this is what he's good at. A criminal suspect. An interrogation in search of justice - yes, this is where his skills really lie. Bluffing about how much he knows is one of his favourite techniques: guilty people always think you know more than you really do.

"All we did was push you out of your privileged position, Shannon! What do you know about running this place? That's hardly a crime is it?"

"I take it you've forgotten about the assaults, sexual harassment and murder, then?" Jim asks, blandly, "That's what the Commander'll be looking into when he's back. It won't be long now - they're due back any day."

"Screw you! I'm not taking the fall for that! Parker was a liability - he wouldn't share, and he wouldn't do anything! He was supposed to step down and he didn't!"

"So you killed him."

"So would you if you had the chance, damn you!"

"Probably not." Jim says, still very calm, "But then, I'm not you. I'll think over what you've said while I'm preparing my report for the Commander. He'll be in to see you as soon as he returns."

It's not a confession per se, but it's pretty damn close. While he can't prove it, Jim's belief that Jackson killed Parker moves from near certainty to absolute certainty. Once they've spoken to the lot of them, that should do the rest.

As long, of course, as Taylor's fit to do it.

For the first time, Malcolm is relieved to see outpost eight. While it'll always be the place where everything went wrong with Rob Stanley, today it's a good thing to see, as they're really on the home stretch now. Besides, it'll be the first stop since they left the forests where they'll have solid walls between themselves and the dinosaurs.

Taylor has been morose and silent behind the wheel of his rover since yesterday. He's definitely going back into that delusional state, as Mira's seen him talking to someone invisible again, so they're convinced that Washington is back in the party - in Taylor's mind, at least. He's consented to allow Malcolm to take the lead, as the route to this outpost is one he's taken more regularly, and thus he knows the way better. All that matters now is that, once they leave here, they've got about nine hours or so left, and they'll be home.

Speaking of which.

Everyone's getting settled, and Travers is on cooking duties, making what use he can of the tinned goods they retrieved from the hold of the Madre de Dios. Taylor is in his quarters, presumably having conversations with the late Lieutenant, while Mira is getting some well-earned rest in a bunk on the other side of the living quarters.

"Outpost eight to Terra Nova. Come in."

It takes a moment, but there's a response: Malcolm - is that you? It's Jim.

"It's good to hear from you, Jim. We're about one more day out - I just wanted to touch base to let you know so you can advise Elisabeth to be ready to see the Commander."

Is it bad?

"Not as bad as it might be. We found a natural compound out in the desert that arrested and suppressed the symptoms. The trouble is, it's run out, and he's deteriorated again. He won't like it when we get back and Elisabeth's waiting for him."

He doesn't have to like it. What else did you find?

"I'll put in a full report when we're back - but the short version is: we found what happened to the ship that had the figurehead on it, we found the portal, we saw it open, and we saw something come through. Plus, we've got four survivors."

Survivors? God - that's going to be a counselling job for the ages. I'll let Elisabeth know. Any injuries?

"A couple of broken bones. Mira's responding well to the fracture compound, but one of the new arrivals isn't - so we'll need to get him seen to as soon as he's back in."

I'll warn her.

He can't help himself, "How's Max? Is she anywhere around?"

Sorry Malcolm, she's at home and probably in bed. I'm the one on call. She's fine, though. Looking forward to having you home, that's for sure. I'll let her know you're all due back tomorrow night.

"Thanks. Send her my love, won't you?"

Urgh.

Malcolm laughs, "I'll sign off and turn in. We're back in comm range now, so any problems, I'll let you know."

Sounds good. Terra Nova out.

Still chuckling, Malcolm sits back.

"Who was that?"

He turns, startled, to see Falker nearby, looking very edgy. Great - who lost track of him?

"The Commander of the colony that we're returning to, Doctor. I'm letting him know we'll be back tomorrow."

"Don't give me that - you're planning to steal my data and destroy it - just like everyone else."

"I haven't seen your data - I don't know what it looks like, so I'm hardly going to destroy it, am I? Besides, until we can rig up a power cable for your laptop, we can't see it anyway. I can't do that until we get to the colony."

"I want my laptop. Where is it?" His eyes hard, Falker takes a step forward, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists and back.

"In a safe place." That's been the stock answer for the last three days. Most people don't know that it's behind that service panel in Malcolm's rover, "Believe me, it's safe. I'll give it back to you when we're back in the Colony and I've worked out how to power it. Then you can do whatever the hell you like with your data. There's no one who's going to steal it from you - it's pretty much useless here so no one would."

And he's done it again. Said something that's triggered an explosion.

"It's not useless!" Furious, Falker is now fumbling with the pocket on his borrowed cargo pants, and Malcolm stares in disbelief as he pulls out a small ballistic pistol. God above, where the hell did he get that? Was it in his pocket when they came through the portal? "I got this after people started rubbishing my results, so they couldn't steal my data from my apartment. Wherever that laptop is, you get it. You get it now."

Holding up his hands, Malcolm shakes his head, "It's too dangerous go to out there at night. The forest's full of predators - there could be anything out there - and even a sonic at full pelt won't bring them down. Once we get to the colony, you'll have the laptop, and a power cable to power it, and you can do whatever you like with the sodding data. Put that gun down - we can resolve this without weapons."

"No. I want it now. You're going to get it for me. Move."

He should be afraid - but, for some reason, he's not. There are plenty of people here, and Dunham's probably still at the doorway; being as dedicated as he is, he offered to keep tabs until everyone was inside. Rather than argue, he turns and allows Falker to follow him out of the lab towards the door. At least this time he's not alone - that was the worst of it when Stanley was hunting him.

Sure enough, Dunham is still at the door, and immediately recognises the situation, "Doctor?"

"Is the cage closed?"

Dunham nods, "I'm pretty sure I saw something moving around out there - but I couldn't tell what it was. Might be an ovosaur, but it could be a slasher."

"As long as the cage is locked, we'll be okay if it's a slasher."

"Slasher?" Falker asks, then snorts, "Quit making stuff up."

Dunham looks as though he's going to object, but Malcolm quickly shakes his head, and he holds his tongue; allowing Malcolm to open the door, and following at Falker's prompt.

It never ceases to amaze Malcolm how noisy the forest can be at night. Creatures are calling to one another - contact calls, food calls, alarm calls…and something's definitely lurking beyond the vehicles that are parked outside the cage. He can hear it moving in the bushes. If it's an ovosaur, then chances are they can scare it off. But, if it's an acceraptor…

"Don't risk it, Doctor." He turns to Falker, "If that's an acceraptor, then stepping outside that door's a death sentence. It won't run away, it won't be injured by a handgun and it'll tear you to pieces. There's no way I'm going beyond this cage."

"Then tell me where my laptop is. I'll get it if you're too chicken to go."

"I'm not telling you." Malcolm says, firmly, "It's for your own safety."

"Fine." He turns, "Then I'll shoot blondie here."

It's clear that he means it, though Dunham remains absolutely impassive in the face of a gun at his head, "Don't let him, Doctor. He'll kill himself and the pair of us if that slasher gets in here."

"Not if it's an ovosaur." Malcolm looks very nervous. Given his ability to inflame situations by saying the wrong thing, he is keen to at least keep two of them alive if he can't manage three.

"I don't give a shit what it is!" Falker snaps, "Give me what I want, or I shoot him right in front of you!"

It's ridiculous; what else can he do? With no alternative, Malcolm extracts a tool from his pocket, "Fine. If that's what you want, then have this. It's the tool you'll need to open the service panel. You'll find it just behind the cab on my rover. It's been slotted in there."

He holds it out, and Falker snatches it from him. "Last chance, Doctor. If you go out there, and it's an acceraptor, then you won't come back in."

"And you're making up crap to keep me from getting my data back. I'm going to get it." Pocketing the gun, Falker wrenches open the door to the cage, and makes his way to Malcolm's rover. Without hesitation, Dunham shuts the gate again so that whatever's out there doesn't get in with them.

"It might be an ovosaur." He says, quietly, "But I don't think it is. If it's still here, then it's going to go for the easy meal."

"I know." Malcolm says, sadly.

"You can't say you didn't warn him, Doctor. If that's an acceraptor, then he's the one who insisted on going out there."

They watch, nervously, as Falker examines the side of Malcolm's rover, and starts to fiddle with the tool, attempting to fit it into the small slot that will loose the catch. He's not making a very good job of it, trembling in his apparent excitement at recovering the laptop and cursing as he misses.

"Listen." Dunham whispers, "Something's moving in the trees."

"Please God let it be an ovosaur." Malcolm whispers back.

It isn't.

No one is ever truly prepared for the sheer size of an acceraptor if they've never seen one. Both of the men inside the cage are well aware of what to expect as a head emerges from the bush, that telltale dome of bone that runs the length of its face. There's no real defensive strategy with a slasher beyond large weapons, large amounts of fire and even larger amounts of luck. Only solid walls are truly protective - and Falker hasn't got any way to get anywhere near those unless he gets back to the cage. Now.

"Falker!" Malcolm doesn't dare raise his voice too high, as the creature's hearing is acute. It's only the interference of the noise of nearby creatures letting off alarm calls in all directions that prompts him to try, "Get back in here - it's an acceraptor! It'll kill you if you don't get in here right now!"

Falker's only move is to continue trying to prise off that damn panel.

"I'll get him." Already, Dunham is making to open the gate of the cage.

"Don't. It'll just kill you as well." Malcolm whispers back, "It's not noticed him yet. If we keep still and quiet, it may be distracted by the alarm calls."

For a moment, it looks like that strategy might pay off, as the hideous creature emerges from the brush and looks set to make its way down the pathway that they used to get here from the Badlands. More alarm calls are sounding from within the forests, and the monstrous biped seems likely to follow that sound.

But then Falker finally gets the panel off.

That clatter, and the triumphant little "Yes!" that accompanies it instantly captures the creature's attention - and what follows is a forgone conclusion. There's nothing either Malcolm or Dunham can do but watch as the acceraptor's great head rounds the front of the rover, and suddenly Falker is face to face with a very large number of teeth.

Regardless of the fact that he's being vindicated - literally - Malcolm is not a cruel man, and he can't watch as the dinosaur takes full advantage of the easy meal right in front of it. Even Dunham has turned away, though neither of them are able to fully block out the horrible screams.

By the time they can look again, there's no sign of the scientist; only a bloody trail off into the bush that is just picked out by the lights from the cage. The panel, and the unlocking tool, are on the floor, and Malcolm can see the edge of the laptop still where he hid it.

"There was nothing you could've done, Doctor." Dunham says, quietly, as Malcolm slams his fist into the cage in sheer frustration.

"Idiot! There was nothing on that sodding laptop that was worth dying for! Why the hell couldn't he wait?"

"I guess we'll never know." The soldier turns, "Come on, Doctor. There's nothing we can do out here. We might as well get back inside."

Miserable, Malcolm nods and allows his head of security to usher him back inside. All he wants right now is to hold Yseult and have a good, old fashioned blub into her shoulder. Thank God they'll be home tomorrow.